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TREATISE 



ON 



SELF-KNOWLEDGE. 



JOHN MASON, A. M. 




LONDON: 

PRINTED FOR B. REYNOLDS, AND C. BALDWYN AND 
CO, NEWGATE STREET; JOHN BYSH, PATERNOSTER 
ROW; *ND JOHN STACY, AND G. KITTON, NORWICH. 

1818. 



M 






Wc Shaekell, Printer, Johnson's court, Fleet-street, London. 



TO 

SAMUEL LESSINGHAM, ESQ. 

TREASURER OF ST. THOMAS'S HOSPITAL, 



SIR, 

Modesty and self-diffidence are the allow- 
ed characteristics of Self-Knowledge. 
If, then, my presuming to address this piece 
to you, may seem to discover more assurance 
and self-confidence than becomes a true 
acquaintance with the subject I write upon, 
I have only this to say ; your known conde- 
scension and candour have encouraged that 
presumption : Nor can any thing animate 
an address of this nature more, than an assu- 
rance, that the person, to whom it is made, 
has so good an understanding in the practi- 
A 



cal part of this subject, as will incline him 
to excuse the defects that may appear in the 
management of it. 

But, after all, sir, my own proficiency in 
this science is so poor, that I dare not be 
confident I am not wrong in my views, with 
which I desire this small Tract may appear 
under your patronage. That it may have 
refuge from the petulance of censure, an en- 
couragement in the publication, and I, at the 
same time, an opportunity of testifying my 
grateful sense of many past favours, are my 
open and avowed ends herein. But, still, 
whether an ambition to be known to the 
world, under the advantage of your friend- 
ship, be not the secret and true motive, I 
cannot be certain. 

However, if, in this point, I may be mis- 



Ill 

taken, there is another in which I think I 
cannot ; and that is, that it is at least a par- 
donable ambition ; in which I shall certainly 
stand acquitted by every one who knows 
your character, the delicacy of your taste in 
the choice of friends, and the real honour it 
does to those you are pleased to admit into 
that number. 

But even this, sir, your penetration will 
soon discover to proceed from the same va- 
nity I before suspected myself to be guilty 
of. And the world will judge, that I speak 
it rather to do myself honour than you. 
However, I am beforehand with them in the 
observation. And that I may not be tempted, 
in this address, to enhance your character 
(according to the usual style of dedications), 
in order to do honour to my own, and at 
once oppress your modesty, and expose my 
a2 



IV 

vanity, I shall put an end to it, without so 
much as attempting to describe a character, 
which I shall, however, always aim to imitate. 

But that you may continue to adorn that 
public and useful station you are in, and long 
Uvea patron and pattern of solid and disin- 
terested virtue ; and that your many cha- 
ritable offices, and good works on earth, 
may meet with a large and late reward in 
heaven, is the hearty prayer of, 

Sir, 

Your much obliged, 

And very humble servant, 

J. MASON, 
Dorking, / 
Jan. 31, 1744-5. } 



PREFACE. 



The subject of the ensuing Treatise is of 
great importance : and yet I do not remem- 
ber to have seen it cultivated with that ex- 
actness, perspicuity, and force, with which 
many other moral and theological themes 
have been managed. And, indeed, it is but 
rarely that we find it particularly and fully 
recommended to us, in a set and regular dis- 
course, either from the pulpit or the press. 
This consideration, together with a full per- 
suasion of its great and extensive usefulness, 
hath put me upon an endeavour, in this 
manner, to render it more familiar to the 
minds of Christians. 

Mr. Baxter, indeed, has a treatise profess- 
edly upon this subject, entitled, The Mis- 
chief of Self- Ignorance, and the Benefit of 



VI 

Self- Acquaintance ; and I freely acknow- 
ledge some helps I received from him : but he 
hath handled it (according to his manner) in 
so lax and diffuse a way, introducing so 
many things into it that are foreign from it, 
omitting others that properly belong to it, 
and skimming over some with a too super- 
ficial notice, that I own I found myself much 
disappointed in what I expected from him, 
and was convinced that there wanted some- 
thing more correct, nervous, and methodical, 
to be written on this subject. 

I am far from having the vanity to think 
that this, which I now offer to the public, is 
entirely free from those faults which I have 
remarked in that pious and excellent author ; 
and am sensible, that, if I do not fall under 
a much heavier censure myself, it must be 
owing to the great candour of my reader, 
. which he will be convinced I have some title 
to, if he but duly consider the nature and 
extent of the subject. For it is almost im- 
possible to let the thoughts run freely upon 
so copious and comprehensive a theme, in 
order to do justice to it, without taking too 



Vll 

large a scope in some particulars that have a 
near affinity to it, as I fear I have done, 
(Part i. chap. 14.) concerning the knowledge, 
guard, and government of the thoughts. 

But there is a great difference between a 
short, occasional, and useful digression, and 
a wide rambling from the subject, by follow- 
ing the impulse of a luxuriant fancy. A ju- 
dicious taste can hardly excuse the latter, 
though it may be content the author should 
gather a few flowers out of the common 
road, provided he soon returns into it again. 

Which brings to my mind another thing, 
which, I am sure, I have great reason to 
crave the reader's patience and pardon for, 
(the best end I know of prefaces,) and that 
is, the free use I have made of some of the 
ancient Heathen writers in my marginal 
quotations^, which, I own, looks like an 



* In order that the present edition of this valuable 
work may be better suited to the taste and capacities 
of very young- persons, for whom, chiefly, it appears 
to be designed, the quotations, here alluded to, are 
omitted. 



Vlll 

ostentation of reading, which I always ab- 
horred. But it was conversing with those 
authors that first turned my thoughts to this 
subject. And the good sense I met with in 
most of their aphorisms and sentiments, gave 
me an esteem for them ; which made it diffi- 
cult for me to resist the temptation of tran- 
scribing several of them, which I thought per- 
tinent to the matter in hand. But, after all, 
I am ashamed to see what an old-fashioned 
figure they make in the margin. However, 
if the reader thinks they will too much in- 
terrupt the course of the subject, he may en- 
tirely omit them : though, by that means, he 
will perhaps lose the benefit of some of the 
finest sentiments in the book. 

I remember a modern writer I have very 
lately read, is grievously offended with Mr. 
Addison for so much as mentioning the 
name of Plato, and presuming, in one of his 
Spectators, to deliver his notions of humour 
in a kind of allegory, after the manner of 
that Greek author ; which he calls a " formal 
w method of trifling, introduced under a deep 
" ostentation of learning, which deserves the 



IX 

" severest rebuke ;" and, perhaps, a more se- 
vere one was never given upon so small a 
provocation. From gentlemen of so refined 
and very nice a taste, I can expect no mercy. 
But the public is to judge, whether this be 
not as culpable and nauseous an affectation 
as the contrary one, which prevailed so 
much in the last century. 

One great view I had in mine eye when 
I pat these thoughts together, was the be- 
nefit of youth, and especially those of them 
that are students and candidates for the sa- 
cred ministry ; for which they will find no 
science more immediately necessary (next to 
a good acquaintance with the word of God) 
than that which is recommended to them in 
the following Treatise; to which every branch 
of human literature is subordinate, and ought 
to be subservient. For, certain it is, the great 
end of philosophy, both natural and moral, 
is to know ourselves, and to know God. 
6 The highest learning is to be wise, and the 
c greatest wisdom is to be good ;' as Marcus 
Antoninus somewhere observes. 

It has often occurred to my mind, in di~ 



X 

gesting my thoughts upon this subject, what 
a pity it is that this most useful science should 
be so generally neglected in the modern me- 
thods of education ; and that preceptors and 
tutors, both in public and private seminaries 
of learning, should forget, that the forming 
the manners is more necessary to a finished 
education than furnishing the minds of youth. 
Socrates thought so, who made all his philo- 
sophy subservient to morality ; and took more 
pains to rectify the tempers, than replenish 
the understanding, of his pupils ; and looked 
upon all knowledge as useless speculation, 
that was not brought to this end, to make the 
person a wiser or a better man. And, with- 
out doubt, if, in the academy, the youth has 
once happily learned the great art of ma- 
naging his temper, governing his passions, 
and guarding his foibles, he will find a more 
solid advantage from it in after life, than he 
could expect from the best acquaintance with 
all the systems of ancient and modern phi- 
losophy. 

It was a very just and sensible answer 
which Agesilaus, the Spartan king, returned 



XI 

to one who asked him, " What that was in 
" which youth ought principally to be in- 
M structed?" He replied, " That which they 
" will have most need to practise when they 
" are men." Were this single rule but care- 
fully attended to in the method of educa- 
tion, it might probably be conducted in a 
manner much more to the advantage of our 
youth than it ordinarily is. For, as Dr. Ful- 
ler observes, " that pains we take in books 
" or arts, which treat of things remote from 
u the use of life, is but a busy idleness." And 
what is there in life which youth will have 
more frequent occasion to practise than this ? 
What is there which they afterwards more 
regret the want of? What is there in which 
they want a greater help and assistance than 
the right government of their passions and 
prejudices ? And what more proper season 
to receive those assistances, and to lay a 
foundation for this difficult, but very impor- 
tant science, than the early part of youth ? 

It may be said, " It is properly the office 
" and care of parents, to watch over and 
" correct the tempers of their children in the 



Xll 

" first years of their infancy, when it may 
" easily be done ;" but if it be not effectual 
then (as it very seldom is), there is the more 
necessity for it afterwards. But the truth is, 
it is the proper office and care of all who 
have the charge of youth, and ought to be 
looked upon as the most important and ne- 
cessary part of education. 

It was the observation of a great divine 
and reformer, that " he, who acquires his 
" learning at the expence of his morals, is the 
" worse for his education." And we may add, 
that he who does not improve his temper, 
together with his understanding, is not much 
the better for it : for he ought to measure his 
progress in science by the improvement of 
his morals ; and remember, that he is no fur- 
ther a learned man, than he is a wise and good 
man ; and that he cannot be a finished phi- 
losopher till he is a Christian. 

But whence is it, that moral philosophy, 
which was so carefully cultivated in the an- 
cient academy, should be forced, in the 
modern, to give place to natural, that was 
originally designed to be subservient to it ? 



Xlll 

which is to exalt the handmaid into the 
place of the mistress ; which appears not 
only a preposterous, but a pernicious method 
of institution : for, as the mind takes a turn 
of future life, suitable to the tincture it hath 
received in youth, it will naturally conclude 
that there is no necessity to regard, or, at 
least, to lay any stress upon those things, 
which were never inculcated upon it as things 
of importance then ; and so will grow up in a 
neglect or disesteem of those things, which 
are more necessary to make a person a wise 
and truly understanding man, than all those 
rudiments of science he brought with him 
from the school or the college. 

It is really a melancholy thing to see a 
young gentleman, of shining parts and a 
sweet disposition, who has gone through the 
common course of academical studies, come 
out into the world under an absolute govern- 
ment of his passions and prejudices ; which 
have increased with his learning, and which r 
when he comes to be better acquainted with 
human life, and human nature, he is soon 
sensible and ashamed of; but perhaps is never 



XIV 

able to conquer as long as he lives, for want 
of that assistance which he ought to have 
received in his education : for a wrong edu- 
cation is one of those three things to which 
it is owing (as an ancient Christian philoso- 
pher justly observes), that so few have the 
right government of their passions. 

I would not be thought to disparage any 
part of human literature ; but should be glad 
to see this most useful branch of science, the 
knowledge of the heart, the detecting and 
correcting hurtful prejudices, and the right 
government of the temper and passions, in 
more general esteem as necessary at once 
to form the gentleman, the scholar, and the 
Christian. 

And if there be any thing in the following 
sheets which may be helpful to students, who 
have a regard to the right government of 
their minds, whilst they are furnishing them 
with useful knowledge, I would particularly 
recommend them to their perusal. 

I have nothing further to add, but to de- 
sire the reader's excuse for the freedom with 
which I have delivered my sentiments in this 



XV 

matter, and for detaining him so long from 
the subject of the ensuing Treatise, which I 
now leave to his candid and serious thoughts 
and the blessing of Almighty God to make 
it useful to him, 



A 

TREATISE 

ON 

SELF-KNOWLEDGE. 

PART I. 



CHAP. I. 

The Nature and Importance of the Subject. 

A desire of knowledge is natural to all 
human minds. And nothing discovers the 
true quality and disposition of the mind 
more than the particular kind of knowledge 
it is most fond of. 

Thus we see, that low and little minds 
are most delighted with the knowledge of 
trifles, as in children; an indolent mind, 
with that which serves only for amusement, 
or the entertainment of the fancy; a cu- 
rious mind is best pleased with fact? ; a 
B 



2 

judicious, penetrating mind, with demon- 
stration and mathematical science ; a world- 
ly mind esteems no knowledge like that of 
the world ; but a wise and pious man, before 
all other kinds of knowledge, prefers that 
of God and his own soul. 

But some kind of knowledge or other the 
mind is continually craving after, and after 
a further proficiency in. And, by consi- 
dering what kind of knowledge it most of 
all desires, its prevailing turn and temper 
may easily be known. 

This desire of knowledge, like other 
affections planted in our natures, will be 
very apt to lead us wrong, if it be not well 
regulated. When it is directed to impro- 
per objects, or pursued in an improper 
manner, it degenerates into a vain and 
criminal curiosity. A fatal instance of this 
in our first parents we have upon sacred re- 
cord, the unhappy effects of which are but 
too visible in all. 

Self-knowledge is the subject of the en- 
suing treatise ; a subject which, the more I 
think of, the more important and extensive 



it appears : so important, that every branch 
of it seems absolutely necessary to the right 
government of the life and temper; and so 
extensive, that the nearer view we take of 
the several branches of it, the more are still 
opening to the view, as necessarily con- 
nected with it as the other, like what we 
find in microscopical observations on natural 
objects. The better the glasses, and the 
nearer the scrutiny, the more wonders we 
explore ; and the more surprising disco- 
veries we make of certain properties, parts, 
or affections belonging to them, which were 
never before thought of. For, in order to 
a true self-knowledge, the human mind, 
with its various powers and operations, must 
be narrowly inspected, all its secret bend- 
ings and doublings displayed ; otherwise 
our self-acquaintance will be but very par- 
tial and defective, and the heart, after all, 
will deceive us. So that, in treating this 
subject, there is no small danger, either of 
doing injury to it, by a slight and superficial 
inquest, on the one hand, or of running into 
a research too minute and philosophical for 
b 2 



4 



common use, on the other. These two ex- 
tremes I shall keep in my eye, and endea- 
vour to keep a middle course between them. 

4 Know thyself,' is one of the most useful 
and comprehensive precepts in the whole 
moral system. And it is well known in how 
great a veneration this maxim was held by 
the ancients ; and in how high esteem the 
duty of self-examination, as necessary to it. 

Thales, the Milesian, is said to be the first 
author of it ; w^ho used to say, " That for a 
" man to know himself, is the hardest thing 
" in the world." It was afterwards adopted 
by Chylon, the Lacedemonian ; and is one 
of those three precepts which Pliny affirms 
to have been consecrated at Delphos in 
golden letters. It was afterwards greatly 
admired, and frequently used by others, till, 
at length, it acquired the authority of a 
divine oracle, and was supposed to have 
been given originally by Apollo himself. Of 
which general opinion Cicero gives us this 
reason, " Because it hath such a weight of 
" sense and wisdom in it, as appears too 
" great to be attributed to any man." And 



this opinion, of its coming originally from 
Apollo himself, perhaps was the reason that 
it was written, in golden capitals, over the 
door of his temple at Delphos. 

And why this excellent precept should 
not be held in as high esteem in the Christian 
world, as it was in the heathen, is hard to 
conceive. Human nature is the same now 
as it was then ; the heart as deceitful ; and 
the necessity of watching, knowing, and 
keeping it, the same. Nor are we less as- 
sured that this precept is divine : nay, we 
have a much greater assurance of this than 
they had. They supposed it came down 
from heaven ; we know it did. What they 
conjectured, we are sure of. For this sacred 
oracle is dictated to us in a manifold light, 
and explained to us in various views, by 
the Holy Spirit, in that revelation which 
God hath been pleased to give us, as our 
guide to duty and happiness; by which, 
" as in a glass, w^e may survey ourselves, 
" and know what manner of persons we are. " 
This discovers ourselves to us, pierces 
into the inmost recesses of the mind, strips 



off every disguise, lays open the inward 
part, makes a strict scrutiny into the very 
soul and sprit, and critically " judges of 
" the thoughts and intents of the heart." 
It shows us with what exactness and care 
we are to search and try our spirits, exa- 
mine ourselves, and watch our ways, and 
keep our hearts, in order to acquire this 
important self-science ; which it often calls 
us to do. " Examine yourselves ; prove 
" your own selves ; know you not your- 
" selves? Let a man examine himself." 
1 Cor. xi. 28. Our Saviour upbraids his 
disciples with their self-ignorance, in not 
" knowing what manner of spirits they were 
" of," Luke ix. 55. And, saith the apostle, 
" If a man (through self-ignorance) thinketh 
" himself to be something, when he is no- 
" thing, he deceiveth himself. But let 
" every man prove his work, and then shall 
" he have rejoicing in himself, and not an- 
" other." Gal. vi. 3, 4. Here we are com- 
manded, instead of judging others, to judge 
ourselves ; and to avoid the inexcusable 
rashness of condemning others for the very 



crimes we ourselves are guilty of, Rom. ii. 
1 , 21, 22, which a self-ignorant man is very- 
apt to do ; nay, to be more offended at a 
small blemish in another's character, than at 
a greater in his own; which folly, self-igno- 
rance, and hypocrisy, our Saviour, with just 
severity, animadverts upon, Mat. vii. 3 — 5. 

And what stress was laid upon this under 
the Old Testament dispensation appears 
sufficiently from those expressions, " Keep 
u thy heart with all diligence. 5 ' Pro. iv. 23. 
" Commune with your own heart." Psal. 
iv. 4. '* Search me, O God, and know my 
" heart ; try me, and know my thoughts." 
Psal. cxxxix. 23. " Examine me, O Lord, 
"and prove me; try my reins and my 
" heart." Psal. xxvi. 2. " Let us search and 
" try our ways." Lam. iii. 4. " Recollect, 
" recollect yourselves, O nation not desired.*' 
Zeph, ii. I. And all this is necessary to 
that self-acquaintance, which is the only 
proper basis of solid peace. 

Were mankind but more generally con- 
vinced of the importance and necessity of 
this self-knowledge, and possessed with a 



8 

due esteem for it ; did they bat know the 
true way to attain it ; and, under a proper 
sense of its excellence, and the fatal effects 
of self-ignorance, did they but make it their 
business and study every day to cultivate it ; 
how soon should we find a happy alteration 
in the manners and spirits of men ! But 
the misery of it is, men will not think ; will 
not employ their thoughts in good earnest 
about the things which most of all deserve 
and demand them. By which unaccount- 
able indolence, obstinacy, and aversion to 
self-reflection, they are led, blindfold and 
insensibly, into the most dangerous paths 
of infidelity and wickedness, as the Jews 
were heretofore ; of whose amazing ingra- 
titude and apostasy God himself assigns 
this single cause, " My people do not con- 
" sider." Isa. i. 3. 

Self-knowledge is that acquaintance with 
ourselves, which shows us what we are, and 
do, and ought to be, and do, in order to our 
living comfortably and usefully here, and 
happily hereafter. The means of it is self- 
examination ; the end of it self-government, 



and self-fruition. It principally consists in 
the knowledge of our souls ; which is at- 
tained by a particular attention to their 
various powers, capacities, passions, incli- 
nations, operations, state, happiness, and 
temper. For a man's soul is properly him- 
self, Mat. xvi. 26. The body is but the 
house, the soul is the tenant that inhabits 
it ; the body is the instrument, the soul the 
artist that directs it. 

This science, which is to be the subject of 
the ensuing treatise, hath these three pecu- 
liar properties in it, which distinguish it 
from, and render it preferable to, all others, 
— (1.) " It is equally attainable by all." It 
requires no strength of memory, no force 
of genius, no depth of penetration, as many 
other sciences do, to come at a tolerable 
acquaintance with them ; which therefore 
renders them inaccessible by the greatest 
part of mankind. Nor is it placed out of 
their reach, through a want of opportunity, 
and proper assistance and direction how to 
acquire it, as many other parts of learning 



10 

are. Every one of a common capacity hath 
the opportunity and ability to acquire it, if 
he will but recollect his rambling thoughts, 
turn them in upon himself, watch the mo- 
tions of his heart, and compare them with 
his rule. — (2.) "It is of equal importance 
"to all, and of the highest importance to 
" every one." Other sciences are suited to 
the various conditions of life. Some more 
necessary to some, others to others. But 
this equally concerns every one that hath 
an immortal soul, whose final happiness he 
desires and seeks. — (3.) " Other knowledge 
" is very apt to make a man vain ; this 
"always keeps him humble." Nay, it is 
always for want of this knowledge that men 
are vain of that they have. " Knowledge 
" puffeth up." 1 Cor. viiL 1. A small de- 
gree of knowledge often hath this effect on 
weak minds. And the reason why greater 
attainments in it have not so generally the 
same effect, is, because they open and en- 
large the views of the mind so far, as to let 
into it, at the same time, a good degree of 



11 

self-knowledge: for the more true know- 
ledge a man hath, the more sensible he is of 
the want of it ; which keeps him humble. 

And now, reader, whoever thou art, what- 
ever be thy character, station, or distinction 
in life, if thou art afraid to look into thine 
heart, and hast no inclination to self-ac- 
quaintance, read no further, lay aside this 
book ; for thou wilt find nothing here that 
will flatter thy self-esteem, but, perhaps, 
something that may abate it. But, if thou 
art desirous to cultivate this important kind 
of knowledge, and to live no longer a stran- 
ger to thyself, proceed ; and keep thy eye 
open to thine own image, with whatever 
unexpected deformity it may present itself 
to thee ; and patiently attend, whilst, by 
divine assistance, I endeavour to lay open 
thine own heart to thee, and lead thee to 
the true knowledge of thyself, in the follow- 
ing chapters. 



12 



CHAP. II. 

The several Branches of Self- Knowledge. 
We must know what sort of creatures 
we are, and what we shall be. 

That we may have a more distinct and 
orderly view of this subject, I shall here 
consider the several branches of self-know- 
ledge, or some of the chief particulars 
wherein it consists. Whereby, perhaps, 
it will appear to be a more copious and com- 
prehensive science than we imagine. And, 

(1.) To know ourselves, is " to know and 
" seriously consider what sort of creatures 
" we are, and what we shall be." 

1. "What we are." 

Man is a complex being, Tpijuept]sv7roffTa(riG, 
^tripartite person, or, a compound creature, 
made up of three distinct parts, viz. the 
body, which is the earthy or mortal part of 



13 

him ; the soul, which is the animal or sen- 
sitive part ; and the spirit, or mind, which 
is the rational and immortal part. Each of 
these three parts have their respective offices 
assigned them ; and a man then acts be- 
coming himself, when he keeps them duly 
employed in their proper functions, and 
preserves their natural subordination. But 
it is not enough to know this merely as a 
point of speculation ; we must pursue and 
revolve the thought, and urge the consider- 
ation to all the purposes of a practical self- 
knowledge. 

We are not all body, nor mere animal 
creatures. We find we have a more noble 
nature than the inanimate or brutal part of 
the creation. We cannot only move and 
act freely, but we observe in ourselves a 
capacity of reflection, study, and forecast ; 
and various mental operations, which irra- 
tional minds discover no symptoms of. Our 
souls, therefore, must be of a more excellent 
nature than theirs; and, from the power of 
thought with which they are endowed, they 
are proved to be immaterial substances, and 



14 



consequently, in their own nature, capable 
of immortality. And that they are actually 
immortal, or will never die, the sacred scrip- 
tures do abundantly testify. Let us, then, 
hereupon seriously recollect ourselves in the 
following soliloquy. 

" O my soul, look back but a few years, 
" and thou wast nothing ! And how didst 
"thou spripg out of that nothing? Thou 
" couldst not make thyself ; that is quite 
" impossible. Most certain it is, that that 
" almighty, self-existent and eternal Power, 
"which made the world, made thee also 
" out of nothing, called thee into being 
" when thou wast not ; gave thee those rea- 
" soning and reflecting faculties, which 
" thou art now employing in searching out 
" the end and happiness of thy nature. It 
" was he, O my soul, that made thee intelli- 
" gent and immortal, It was he that placed 
" thee in this body, as in a prison ; where thy 
" capacities are cramped, thy desires de- 
" based, and thy liberty lost. It was he that 
" sent thee into this world, which, by all 
" circumstances, appears to be a state of 



15 

" short discipline and trial. And wherefore 
" did he place thee here, when he might 
" have made thee a more free, unconfined 
" and happy spirit ? But check that thought ; 
" it looks like a too presumptuous curiosity. 
" A more needful and important enquiry is, 
" What did he place thee here for ? And 
"what doth he expect from thee whilst 
" thou art here ? What part hath he allotted 
" me to act on the stage of human life, 
" where he, angels and men, are spectators 
" of my behaviour? The part he hath 
" given me to act here is, doubtless, a very 
" important one, because it is for eternity. 
" And what is it, but to live up to the dig- 
" nity of my rational and intellectual nature, 
" and as becomes a creature, born for im- 
" mortality ? 

" And tell me, O my soul, (for as I am 
* now about to cultivate a better acquaint- 
" ance with thee, to whom I have been too 
u long a stranger, I must try thee, and put 
" many a close question to thee) tell me, 
" I say, whilst thou confinest thy desires to 
"sensual gratifications, wherein dost thou 



16 



" differ from the beasts that perish ? Cap- 
" tivated by bodily appetites, dost thou not 
" act beneath thyself? Dost thou not put 
" thyself upon a level with the lower class 
" of beings, which were made to serve thee ? 
" Offer an indignity to thyself, and despise 
" the works of thy maker's hands? O re- 
" member thy heavenly extract ; remember 
" thou art a spirit! Check, then, the solid- 
" tations of the flesh ; and dare to do nothing 
" that may diminish thy native excellence, 
" dishonour thy high original, or degrade 
" thy noble nature, But let me still urge 
" it. Consider (I say,) O my soul, that 
" thou art an immortal spirit. Thy body 
" dies ; but thou, thou must live for ever, 
" and thine eternity must take it$ tincture 
" from the manner of thy behaviour, and 
" the habits thou contractest, during this 
" thy short copartnership with flesh and 
" blood. O ! do nothing now, but what 
" thou mayest, with pleasure, look back 
" upon a million of ages hence! For know, 
" O my soul, that thy self-consciousness and 
" reflecting faculties will not leave thee 



u with thy body ; but will follow tbee after 
u death, and be the instrument of unspeak- 
" able pleasure or torment to thee io that 
" separate state of existence/" 

(2) In order to a full acquaintance with 
ourselves, we must endeavour to know not 
only what we are, but what we shall be. 

And O ! what different creatures shall we 
soon be, from what we now are ! Let us look 
forward then, and frequently glance our 
thoughts towards death ; though they can- 
not penetrate the darkness of that passage, 
or reach the state behind it That lies 
veiled from the eyes of our mind ; and the 
great God hath not thought fit to throw so 
much light upon it, as to satisfy the anxious 
and inquisitive desires the soul hath to know 
it. However, let us make the best use we 
can of that little light which scripture and 
reason have let in upon this dark and im- 
portant subject. 

" Compose thy thoughts, O my $qxi\ and 

" imagine how it will fare with thee., when 

'* thou goest a naked, .unembodied spirit, 

"into a world, an unknown world of spirits, 

c 



18 



«* with all thy self-consciousness about thee, 
" where no material object shall strike thine 
" eye, and where thy dear partner and coin- 
u panion, the body, cannot come nigh thee ; 
et but where, without it, thou wilt be sen- 
" sible of the most noble satisfactions, or 
cc the most exquisite pains. Embarked in 
" death, thy passage will be dark; and the 
" shore, on which it will land thee, altoge- 
" ther strange and unknown- It doth not 
* c yet appear what we shall be" 

That revelation, which God hath been 
pleased to make of his will to mankind, was 
designed, rather to fit us for the future hap- 
piness, and direct our way to it, than open 
to us the particular glories of it, or distinctly 
show us what it is. This it hath left still 
very much a mystery, to check our too cu- 
rious inquiries into the nature of it, and to 
bend our thoughts more intently to that 
which more concerns us 3 viz. an habitual 
preparation for it. And what that is, we 
cannot be ignorant, if we believe either our 
Bible or our reason. For both these assure 
us, that, "that which makes us like to God, 



19 

u is the only thing that oan fit us for the 
" enjoyment of him." Here, then, let us 
hold. Let our great concern be, to be 
" holy, as he is holy." And then 9 and then 
only, are we sure to enjoy him, " in whose 
" light we shall see light." And, be the 
future state of existence what it will, we 
shall some way be happy there, and much, 
more happy than we can now conceive ; 
though in what particular manner we know 
not, because God hath not revealed it 



c2 



20 



CHAP. III. 

The several Relations in which we stand to 
God, to Christy and our fellow-creatures, 

II. " Self-knowledge requires us to be 
u well acquainted with the various relations 
€i in which we stand to other beings, and the 
" several duties that result from those rela- 
" tions." And, 

(1.) u Our first and principal concern is 
" to consider the relation we stand in to 
" him, who gave us our being." 

We are the creatures of his hand, and the 
objects of his care. His power upholds the 
being his goodness gave us ; his bounty ac- 
commodates us with the blessings of this 
life ; and his grace provides for as the hap- 
piness of a better. Nor are we merely his 
creatures, but his rational and intelligent 
creatures. It is the dignity of our natures, 



21 

that we are capable of knowing and enjoy- 
ing him that made us. And, as the rational 
creatures of God, there are two relations 
especially that we stand in to him ; the fre- 
quent consideration of which is absolutely 
necessary to a right self-knowledge. For, 
as our creator, he is our king and father. 
And> as his creatures, we are the subjects 
of his kingdom, and the children of his 
family. 

1. " We are the subjects of his kingdom/' 5 
And, as such, we are bound, 

(i.) To yield a faithful obedience to the 
laws of his kingdom. And the advantages 
by which these come to be recommended 
to us above all human law T s, are many. 
They are calculated for the private interest 
of every one, as well as that of the public ; 
and are designed to promote our present, as 
well as our future happiness. They are 
plainly and explicitly published ; easily un- 
derstood ; » and in fair and legible characters 
writ in every man's heart ; and the wisdom, 
reason, and necessity of them are readily 
discerned. They are urged with the mpst 



mighty motives that can possibly affect the 
human heart. And, if any of them are diffi- 
cult, the most effectual grace is freely offered 
to encourage and assist our obedience ; ad- 
vantages which no human laws have to 
enforce the observance of them. — (2.) As 
his subjects, we must readily pay him the 
homage due to his sovereignty. And this 
is no less than the homage of the heart ; 
humbly acknowledging, that we hold every 
thing of him, and have every thing from 
him. Earthly princes are forced to be con- 
tent with verbal acknowledgments, or mere 
formal homage. For they can command 
nothing but what is external. But God, 
who knows and looks at the hearts of all 
his creatures, will accept of nothing but 
what comes from thence. He demands the 
adoration of our whole souls, which is most 
justly due to him, who formed them, and 
gave them the very capacities to know and 
adore him. — (3.) As faithful subjects, we 
must cheerfully pay him the tribute he re- 
quires of us. This is not like the tribute 
which earthly kipgs exact; who as much 



23 

depend upon their subjects for the support 
of their power, as their subjects do upon 
them for the protection of their property. 
But the tribute God requires of us, is a tri- 
bute of praise and honour ; which he stands 
in no need of from us. For his power is 
independent, and his glory immutable ; and 
he is infinitely able, of himself, to support 
the dignity of his universal government. 
But it is the most natural duty we owe him 
as creatures. For to praise him, is only to 
show forth his praise; to glorify him, to 
celebrate his glory ; and to honour him, is 
to render him and his ways honourable in 
the eyes and esteem of others. And, as 
this is the most natural duty that creatures 
owe to their Creator, so, it is a tribute he 
requires of every one of them, in proportion 
to their respective talents, and abilities to 
pay it. — (4.) As dutiful subjects, we must, 
contentedly and quietly submit to the me- 
thods and administrations of his govern- 
ment, however dark, involved, or intricate.. 
All governments have their arcana imperii , 
or secrets of state, which .common subjects 



M 



cannot penetrate, And therefore, ihsy can-* 
not competently judge of the wisdom of 
rectitude of certain public measures; be- 
cause they are ignorant, either of the springs 
of them, or the ends of them* or the expe- 
diency of the means, arising from the par- 
ticular situation of things in the present 
juncture. And how much truer is this with 
relation to God's government of the world* 
whose wisdom is far above our reach, and 
" whose ways are not as ours !'* Whatever, 
then, may be the present aspect and appear- 
ance of things, as dutiful subjects, we are 
bound to acquiesce ; to ascribe wisdom and 
" righteousness to our maker*" in confidence 
that the king and " Judge of all the earth 
u will do right." Again, (5.) As good sub- 
jects of God's kingdom, we are bound to 
pay a due regard and reverence to his 
ministers : Especially if they discover an 
uncorrupted fidelity to his cause* and a 
pure unaffected zeal for his honour ; if they 
do not seek their own interest more than 
that of their divine Master. The ministers 
of earthly princes too often do this. And 



it would be happy if all the ministers and 
embassadors of the heavenly King were en- 
tirely clear of the imputation. It is no 
uncommon thing for the honour of an 
earthly monarch to be wounded through 
the sides of his ministers. The defamation 
and slander, that is directly thrown at them 
is obliquely intended against him : and as 
such it is taken. So, to attempt to make 
the ministers of the gospel, in general, the 
objects of derision, as some do, plainly 
shows a mind very dissolute and disaffected 
to God, and religion itself ; and is to act a 
part very unbecoming the dutiful subjects 
of his kingdom. — (Lastly) As good sub- 
jects, we are to do all w r e can to promote the 
interest of his kingdom ; by defending the 
wisdom of his administrations, and endea- 
vouring to reconcile others thereunto, under 
all the darkness and difficulties that may 
appear in them, in opposition to the profane 
censures of the prosperous wicked, and the 
doubts and dismays of the afflicted righteous, 
This is to act in character, as loyal subjects 
©f the King of heaven. And whoever for- 



26 

gets this part of his character, Or acts con- 
trary to it, shows a great degree of self- 
ignorance. 

But, (2.) As the creatures of God, we 
are not only the subjects of his kingdom, 
but the children of his family. And to this 
relation, and the obligations of it, must we 
carefully attend, if we would attain the true 
knowledge of ourselves. We are his chil- 
dren by creation ; in which respect he is 
truly our father. Isa. lxiv. 8. " But now, 
" O Lord, thou art our father : we are the 
" clay, and thou our potter ; and we all are 
" the work of thine hands." And, in a more 
special sense, we are his children by adop- 
tion. Gal. iii. 26. " For ye are all the chil- 
" dren of God by faith in Christ Jesus." 
And therefore, (1) We are under the 
highest obligations to love him as our father. 
The love of children to parents is founded 
on gratitude, for benefits received, which 
can never be requited : and ought, in reason, 
to be proportioned to those benefits ; espe- 
cially if they flow from a conscience of duty 
in the parent. And what duty more natural 



±7 

fhan to love our benefactors ? What love 
and gratitude, then, is due to him, from 
whom we have received the greatest benefit, 
even that of our being, and every' thing that 
contributes to the comfort of it ? — (2.) As 
his children, we must honour him ; that is f 
must speak honourably of him, and for him ; 
and carefully avoid every thing that may 
tend to dishonour his holy name and ways. 
Mai. i. 6. " A son honoureth his father : if 
u then, I be a father, where is minehonour?" 
— (3.) As our father, we are to apply to him 
for what we want. Whither should children 
go but to their father, for protection, help, 
and relief, in every danger, difficulty, and 

distress ? And (4.) We must trust his 

power and wisdom, and paternal goodness, 
to provide for us, take care of us, and do for 
m that which is best ; and, what that is he 
knows best. To be anxiously fearful what 
will become of us, and discontented and per- 
plexed under the apprehension of future 
evils, whilst we are in the hands, and under 
the care, of our father which is in heaven, 
is not to act like children. Earthly parents 



2» 

eannot avert from their children all the ca- 
lamities they fear, because their wisdom and 
power are limited ; but our all-wise and 
almighty Father in heaven can. They may 
possibly want love and tenderness for their 
offsprings but our heavenly Father cannot 
for his. Isa. xlix. 15. — (5.) As children, we 
must quietly acquiesce in his disposals, and 
not expect to see into the wisdom of all his 
will. It would be indecent and undutiful in 
a child to dispute his parents' authority, or 
question their wisdom, or neglect their 
orders, every time he could not discern the 
reason and design of them. Much more 
unreasonable and unbecoming is such a 
behaviour towards God, " who giveth not 
" account of any of his matters ; whose 
" judgments are unsearchable, and whose 
" ways are past finding out/' Job xxxiii. 13. 
Rom. xi. 33. — (Lastly,) As children, we 
must patiently submit to his discipline and 
correction. Earthly parents may sometimes 
punish their children through passion, or 
for their pleasure ; but our heavenly Father 
always corrects his for their profit, Heb. xii. 



10. and only if need be, 1 Pet. i. 6.' and 
never so much as their iniquities deserve, 
Ezra, ix. 13. Under his fatherly rebukes, 
then, let us be ever humble and submissive. 
Such, now, is the true filial disposition. 
Such a temper and such a behaviour should 
we show towards God, if we would act in 
character as his children. 

These, then, are the two special relations, 
which, as creatures, we stand in to God. 
And not to act towards him in the manner 
before mentioned, is to show that we are 
ignorant of, or have not yet duly considered, 
our obligations to him as his subjects and 
his children ; or, that we are as yet ignorant 
both of God and ourselves. Thus, we see 
how directly the knowledge of ourselves 
leads us to the knowledge of God. So true 
is the observation of a late pious and very 
worthy divine, that, u He, that is a stranger 
" to himself, is a stranger to God, and to 
14 every thing that may denominate him wise 
" and happy." 

But (2.) in order to know ourselves, there 
is another important relation we should often 



30 

think of, and that is, that in which we stand 
to Jesus Christ, our Redeemer. 

The former was common to us as men : 
this is peculiar to us as Christians ; and 
opens to us a new scene of duties and obli- 
gations, which a man can never forget, that 
does not grossly forget himself; for, as 
Christians, we are the disciples, the fol- 
lowers, and the servants of Christ, redeemed 
by him. 

And, 1. As the disciples of Christ, we are 
to learn of him : to take our religious sen- 
timents only from his gospel, in opposition 
to all the authoritative dictates of men, who 
are weak and fallible as ourselves : " Call 
** no man master on earth." Whilst some 
affect to distinguish themselves by party- 
names, as the Corinthians formerly did (for 
which the apostle blames them,) one saying 
" I am of Paul ;" another, " I am of Apollos ;' 
another, " I am of Cephas," 1 Cor. i. 12. 
let us remember, that we are the disciples 
of Christ, and, in this sense, make mention 
of his name only. It is really injurious to 
at, to seek to distinguish ourselves by any 



31 

other. There is more carnality in such 
party-distinctions, denominations, , and at- 
tachments, than many good souls are aware 
of ; though not more than the apostle Paul 
(who was unwillingly placed at the head of 
one himself) hath apprised them of, 1 Cor. 
iii. 4. We are of Christ: our concern is, 
to honour that superior denomination, by 
living up to it ; and to adhere inflexibly to 
his gospel, as the only rule of our faith, the 
guide of our life, and the foundation of our 
hope ; whatever contempt or abuse we may 
suffer, either from the profane or bigotted 
part of mankind, for so doing. — (2.) As 
Christians, we are followers of Christ ; and 
therefore bound to imitate him, and copy 
after that most excellent patern he hath set 
us, " who hath left us an example, that we 
"should follow his steps." 1 Pet. ii. 21. 
To see, that the same holy temper " be in 
" us, which was in him ;" and to discover it 
in the same manner he did, and upon like 
occasions. To this he calls us, Mat. xi. 29. 
And no man is any farther a Christian, than 
as he is a follower of Christ; aiming at a 



3S 

more perfect conformity to that most per- 
fect example which he hath set us of univer- 
sal goodness. — (3.) As Christians, we are 
the servants of Christ ; and the various du- 
ties which servants owe to their masters in 
any degree, those we owe to him in the 
highest degree ; who expects we should 
behave ourselves in his service with that 
fidelity and zeal, and steady regard to his 
honour and interest, at all times, which we 
are bound to by virtue of this relation, and 
which his unmerited and unlimited goodness 
and love lay us under infinite obligations 
to. — (Lastly,) We are, moreover, his re- 
deemed servants ; and, as such, are under 
the strongest motives to love and trust him. 
This deserves to be more particularly con- 
sidered, because it opens to us another view 
of the human nature, in which we should 
often survey ourselves, if we desire to know 
ourselves; and that is, as depraved or dege- 
nerate beings. The inward contest we so 
sensibly feel 5 at some seasons especially,. 
between a good and a bad principle (called. 
m scripture language,, the fiesh and the 



33 



spirit) of which some of the wisest heathen* 
seemed not to be ignorant ; this, I say, is 
demonstration, that some way or other the 
human nature has contracted an ill bias 
(and how that came about, the sacred scrip- 
tures have sufficiently informed us), and 
that it is not what it was when it came ori- 
ginally out of the hands of its Maker ; so 
that the words which St. Paul spake, with 
reference to the Jews in particular, are 
justly applicable to the state of mankind in 
general, " There is none righteous, no, not 
" one ; they are all gone out of the way, 
" they are together become unprofitable, 
" there is none that doth good, no, not one." 

This is a very mortifying thought, but an 
undeniable truth, and one of the first prin- 
ciples of that science we are treating of; 
and very necessary to be attended to, if we 
would be sensible of the duty and obligations 
we owe to Christ, as the great Redeemer, 
in which character he appears for the relief 
and recovery of mankind under this their 
universal depravity. 

The two miserable effects of the human 
D 



34 

apostacy are, 1. That perverse dispositions 
grow up in our minds from early infancy, 
that soon settle into vicious habits, which 
render us weak, and unwilling to obey the 
dictates of conscience and' reason, and is 
commonly called, the dominion of sin. And, 
2. At the same time we are subject to the 
displeasure of God, and the penalty of his 
law ; which is commonly called, the con- 
demnation of sin. Now, in both these re- 
spects did Christ, " the Lamb of God, come 
" to take away the sin of the world ;" that is, 
to take away the reigning power of it by 
the operation of his grace ; and the con- 
demning power of it, by the atonement of 
his blood ; to sanctify us by his spirit, and 
justify us by his death. By the former, he 
reconciles us to God, and, by the latter, he 
reconciles God to us ; and is, at once, our 
righteousness and strength. He died to 
purchase for us the happiness we had for- 
feited, and sends his grace and spirit to fit 
us for that happiness he hath thus purchased. 
So complete is his redemption ! so suitably 
adapted is the remedy he hath provided, to 



the malady we had contracted ! — u O blessed 
" Redeemer of wretched, ruined creatures, 
N how unspeakable are the obligations I owe 
M thee ! But, ah ! how insensible am I of 
" those obligations ! The saddest symp- 
" torn of degeneracy I find in my nature, 
" is that base ingratitude of heart, which 
M renders me so unaffected with thine asto- 
" nishing compassions. Till I know thee, 
" I cannot know myself ; and when I survey 
" myself, may I ever think of thee ! may 
M the daily consciousness of my weakness 
u and guilt lead my thoughts to thee ; and 
M may every thought of thee kindle in my 
" heart the most ardent glow of gratitude to 
" thee, O thou divine, compassionate friend, 
" lover, and Redeemer of mankind." 

Whoever, then, he be, that calls himself 
a Christian, that is, who professes to take 
the gospel of Christ for a divine revelation, 
and the only rule of his faith and practice, 
but, at the same time, pays a greater regard 
to the dictates of men, than to the doctrines 
ef Christ ; who loses sight of that great 
example of Christ, which should animate 
b2 



his Christian walk, is unconcerned about 
his service, honour, and interest, and ex- 
eludes the consideration of his merits and 
atonement from his hope and happiness; 
he forgets that he is a Christian ; — he does 
not consider in what relation he stands to 
Christ, (which is one great part of his cha- 
racter) and consequently discovers a great 
degree of self-ignorance. 

(3.) Self-knowledge, moreover, implies a 
due attention to the several relations in 
which we stand to our fellow-creatures, and 
the obligations that result from thence. 

If we know ourselves, we shall remember 
the condescension, benignity, and love, that 
is due to inferiors; the affability, friendship, 
and kindness, we ought to show to equals ; 
the regard, deference, and honour, w r e owe 
to superiors ; and the candour, integrity, 
and benevolence, we owe to all. 

The particular duties requisite in these 
relations are too numerous to be here men- 
tioned. Let it suffice to say, that, if a man 
doth not well consider the several relations 
of life in which he stands to others, and 



does not take care to preserve the decorum 
and propriety of those relations, he may 
justly be charged with self-ignorance. 

And this is so evident in itself, and so 
generally allowed, that nothing is more 
common than to say, when a person does 
not behave with due decency towards his 
superiors, such a one does not understand 
himself. But, why may not this, with equal 
justice, be said of those who act in an ill 
manner towards their inferiors ? The ex- 
pression, I know, is not so often thus ap- 
plied; but I see no reason why it should 
not; since one is as common, and as plain 
an instance of self-ignorance, as the other. 
Nay, of the two, perhaps men in general 
are more apt to be defective in their duty 
and behaviour towards those beneath them, 
than they are towards those that are above 
them ; and the reason seems to be, because 
an apprehension of the displeasure of their 
superiors, and the detrimental consequences 
which may accrue from thence, may be a 
check upon them, and engage them to pay 
^he just regards which they expect: but 



38 



there being no such check to restrain them 
from violating the duties they owe to infe- 
riors (from whose displeasure they have 
little to fear,) they are more ready, under 
certain temptations, to treat them in an un- 
becoming manner. And as wisdom and 
self-knowledge will direct a man to be par- 
ticularly careful, lest he neglect those duties 
he is most apt to forget ; so, as to the duties 
he owes to inferiors, in which he is most in 
danger of transgressing, he ought more 
strongly to urge upon himself the indispen- 
sable obligations of religion and conscience. 
And if he does not, but suffers himself, 
through the violence of ungoverned pas- 
sion, to be transported into the excesses of 
rigour, tyranny, and oppression, towards 
those whom God and nature have put into his 
power, it is certain he does not know him- 
self, is not acquainted with his own parti- 
cular weakness, is ignorant of the duty of 
his relation, and, whatever he may think of 
himself, hath not the true spirit of govern- 
ment, because he wants the art of self- 
government. For he, that is unable to 



39 



govern himself, can never be fit to govern 
others. 

Would we know ourselves, then, we must 
consider ourselves as creatures, as Christians, 
and as men ; and remember the obligations 
which, as such, we are under to God, to 
Christ, and our fellow men ; in the several 
relations in which we stand to them ; in 
order to maintain the propriety, and fulfil 
the duties, of those relations. 



40 



CHAP. IV. 

We must duly consider the rank and station 
of life in which Providence hath placed us> 
and what it is that becomes and adorns it. 

III. A man " that knows himself, will de- 
" liberately consider and attend to the par- 
" ticular rank and station in life, in which 
" Providence hath placed him ; and what 
" is the duty and decorum of that station ; 
" what part is given him to act ; what cha- 
" racter to maintain ; and with what de- 
" eency and propriety he acts that part or 
" maintains that character." 

For a man to assume a character, or aim 
at a part, that does not belong to him, is 
affectation. And whence is it, that affecta- 
tion of any kind appears so ridiculous, and 
exposes men to universal and just contempt, 
but because it is a certain indication of self- 



41 

ignorance? Whence is it, that many seem 
so willing to be thought something, when 
they are nothing, and seek to excel in those 
things in which they cannot, whilst they 
neglect those things in which they might 
excel ? Whence is it, that they counteract 
the intention of nature and Providence, that 
when this intended them one thing, they 
would fain be another ? Whence, I say, 
but from an ignorance of themselves, the 
rank of life they are in, and the part and 
character which properly belongs to them ? 
It is a just observation, and an excellent 
document of a moral heathen, that human 
life is a " drama, and mankind the actors, 
" who have their several parts assigned 
" them by the master of the theatre, who 
" stands behind the scenes, and observes 
" in what manner every one acts. Some 
" have a short part allotted them, and some 
" a long one ; some a low, and some a high 
" one. It is not he that acts the highest 
<; or most shining part on the stage, that 
" comes off with the greatest applause ; but 
" he that acts his part best, whatever it be, 



42 

€i To take care, then, to act our respective 
" parts in life well, is ours ; but to choose 
u what part in life we shall act, is not ours, 
" but God's." But a man can never act 
his part well, if he does not attend to it ; 
does not know what becomes it ; much 
less, if he affect to act another, which does 
not belong to him. It is always self-igno- 
rance, that leads a man to act out of cha- 
racter. 

Is it a mean and low station of life thou 
art in ? Know, then, that Providence calls 
thee to the exercise of industry, content- 
ment, submission, patience, hope, and hum- 
ble dependance on him, and a respectful 
deference to thy superiors. In this way, 
thou mayest shine through thy obscurity, 
and render thyself amiable in the sight of 
God and man ; and not only so, but find 
more satisfaction, safety, and self-enjoyment, 
than they who move in a higher sphere, 
from whence they are in danger of falling. 

But, hath Providence called thee to act 
in a more public character, and for a more 
extensive benefit to the world ? Thy first 



43 

care, then, ought to be, that thy example, 
as far as its influence reaches, may be an 
encouragement to the practice of universal 
virtue. And next, to shine in those virtues, 
especially, which best adorn thy station ; 
as benevolence, charity, wisdom, modera- 
tion, firmness, and inviolable integrity ; with 
an undismayed fortitude to press through 
all opposition, in accomplishing those ends 
which thou hastaprospect and probability of 
attaining for the apparent good of mankind. 
And, as self-acquaintance will teach us 
what part in life we ought to act, so, the 
knowledge of that will show us whom we 
ought to imitate, and wherein. We are not 
to take example of conduct from those, who 
have a very different part assigned them 
from ours, unless in those things that are 
universally ornamental and exemplary. If 
we do, we shall but expose our affectation 
and weakness, and ourselves to contempt, 
for acting out of character ; for what is 
decent in one, may be ridiculous in another. 
Nor must we blindly follow those who move 
in the same sphere, and sustain the same 



44 

character with ourselves, but only in those 
things that are befitting that character ; for 
it is not the person, but the character, we 
are to regard ; and to imitate him no fur- 
ther than he keeps to that. 

This caution especially concerns youth, 
who are apt to imitate their superiors very 
implicitly, especially such as excel in the 
part or profession they themselves are aim- 
ing at ; but, for want of judgment to dis- 
tinguish what is fit and decent, are apt to 
imitate their very foibles, which a partiality 
for their persons makes them deem as ex- 
cellencies, and thereby they become doubly 
ridiculous, both by acting out of character 
themselves, and by a weak and servile imi- 
tation of others in the very things in which 
they do so too. To maintain* a character, 
then, with decency, we must keep our eye 
only upon that which is proper to it. 

In fine, as no man can excel in every- 
thing, we must consider what part is allotted 
us to act, in the station in which Providence 
hath placed us, and keep to that, be it what 
it will, and seek to excel in that only. 



45 



CHAP. V. 

Every man should be well acquainted with 
his own talents and capacities ; and in 
what manner they are to be exercised and 
improved to the greatest advantage. 

IV. "A man cannot be said to know him- 
" self, till he is well acquainted with his 
" proper talents and capacities ; knows for 
" what ends he received them ; and how 
" they may be most fitly applied and im- 
" proved for those ends." 

A wise and self-understanding man, in- 
stead of aiming at talents he hath not, will 
set about cultivating those he hath, as the 
way in which Providence points out his 
proper usefulness. 

As, in order to the edification of the 
church, the spirit of God, at first, conferred 
upon the ministers of it a great variety of 



46 

spiritual gifts, 1 Cor. xii. 8 — 10: so, for 
the good of the community, God is pleased 
now to confer upon men a great variety of 
natural talents. And " Every one hath his 
" proper gift of God ; one after this manner, 
" another after that." 1 Cor. vii. 7. And 
every one is to take care " Not to neglect, 
" but to stir up the gift of God which is in 
" him." 1 Tim. iv. 14. 2 Tim. i. 6. Be- 
cause it was given him to be improved ; and 
not only the abuse, but the neglect of it 
must be hereafter accounted for. Witness 
the doom of that unprofitable servant, " who 
" laid up his single pound in a napkin." 
Luke xix. 20, 24. And of him who went 
and " hid his talent in the earth." Mat. xxv. 
25—30. 

It is certainly a sign of great self-igno- 
rance, for a man to venture out of his depth, 
or attempt any thing he wants opportunity 
or capacity to accomplish. And therefore, 
a wise man will consider with himself, be- 
fore he undertakes any thing of consequence, 
whether he hath abilities to carry him 
through it, and whether the issue of it is 



47 



like to be for his credit ; lest he sink under 
the weight he lays upon himself, and incur 
the just censure of rashness, presumption, 
and folly. See Luke xiv. 28—32. 

It is no uncommon thing for some, who 
excel in one thing, to imagine they may 
excel in every thing ; and, not content w^ith 
that share of merit which every one allows 
them, are still catching at that which doth 
not belong to them. Why should a good 
orator affect to be a poet ? Why must a 
celebrated divine set up for a politician ? or 
a statesman affect the philosopher ? or a 
mechanic the scholar ? or a wise man labour 
to be thought a wit ? This is a weakness 
that flows from self-ignorance, and is inci- 
dent to the greatest men. Nature seldom 
forms an universal genius, but deals out her 
favours in the present state with a parsimo- 
nious hand. Many a man, by this foible, 
hath weakened a well-established reputa- 
tion. 



CHAP. VI. 

We must be well acquainted with our inabili- 
ties, and those things in which we are na- 
turally deficient > as well as those in which 
we excel. 

V. "We must, in order to a thorough self- 
" acquaintance, not only consider our ta- 
" lents and proper abilities, but have an 
" eye to our frailties and deficiencies, that 
" we may know where our weakness, as well 
" as our strength, lies." Otherwise, like 
Samson, we may run ourselves into infinite 
temptations and troubles. 

Every man hath a weak side. Every 
wise man knows where it is, and will be 
sure to keep a double guard there. 

There is some wisdom in concealing a 
weakness. This cannot be done, till it be 
first known ; nor can it be known without a 
good degree of self-acquaintance. 



49 

It is strange to observe what pains some 
men are at to expose themselves ; to sig- 
nalize their own folly ; and to set out to the 
most public view those things which they 
ought to be ashamed to think should ever 
enter into their character. But so it is ; 
some men seem to be ashamed of those 
things which should be their glory, whilst 
others " glory in their shame." Phil. iii. 19, 

The greatest weakness in a man is to pub- 
lish his weaknesses, and to appear fond to 
have them known. But vanity will often 
prompt a man to this, who, unacquainted 
with the measure of his capacities, attempts 
things out of his power, and beyond his 
reach, whereby he makes the world ac- 
quainted with two things to his disadvantage, 
which they were ignorant of before, viz. his 
deficiency, and his self-ignorance, in ap- 
pearing so blind to it. 

It is ill-judged (though very common) 
to be less ashamed of a want of temper, than 
understanding. For it is no real dishonour 
or fault in a man to have but a small ability 
of mind, provided he hath not the vanity to 

E 



50 

set up for a genius, (which would be as 
ridiculous, as for a man of small strength 
and stature of body to set up for a cham- 
pion) because this is what he cannot help. 
But a man may, in a good measure, correct 
the fault of his natural temper, if he be well 
acquainted with it, and duly watchful over 
it. And, therefore, to betray a prevailing 
weakness of temper, or an ungoverned pas- 
sion, diminishes a man's reputation much 
more than to discover a weakness of judg- 
ment or understanding. But r what is most 
dishonourable of all is, for a man at once 
to discover a great genius and an ungo- 
verned mind ; because, that strength of 
reason and understanding he is master of, 
gives him a great advantage for the govern- 
ment of his passions ; and, therefore, his 
suffering himself, notwithstanding, to be 
governed by them, shows, that he hath too 
much neglected or misapplied his natural 
talent, and willingly submitted to the ty- 
ranny of those lusts and passions, over which 
nature had furnished him with abilities to 
have secured an easy conquest. 



51 

A wise man hath his foibles, as well as a 
fool. But the difference between them is, 
that the foibles of the one are known to 
himself, and concealed from the world; the 
foibles of the other are known to the world, 
and concealed from himself. The wise man 
sees those frailties in himself, which others 
cannot ; but the fool is blind to those ble- 
mishes in his character, which are conspi- 
cuous to every body else. Whence it 
appears that self-knowledge is that which 
makes the main difference between a wise 
man and a fool, in the moral sense of that 
word, 



e 2 



52 



CHAP. VII. 

Concerning the knowledge of our constitu- 
tional sins. 

VI. " Self-acquaintance shows a man 
" the particular sins he is most exposed and 
" addicted to ; and discovers not only what 
" is ridiculous, but what is criminal, in his 
" conduct and temper. " 

The outward actions of a man are gene- 
rally the plainest index of his inward dispo- 
sitions ; and, by the allowed sins of his life, 
you may know the reigning vices of his 
mind. Is he addicted to luxury and de- 
bauch ? sensuality then appears to be his 
prevailing taste. Is he given to revenge 
and cruelty ? choler and malice, then, reign 
in his heart. Is he confident, bold, and 
enterprising? ambition appears to be the 
secret spring. Is he sly and designing, 



53 

given to intrigue and artifice? you may 
conclude, there is a natural subtlety of tem- 
per that prompts him to this. And this 
secret disposition is criminal, in proportion 
to the degree in which these outward ac- 
tions, which spring from it, transgress the 
bounds of reason and virtue. 

Everyman hath something peculiar in the 
turn or cast of his mind, which distinguishes 
him as much as the particular constitution 
of his body. And both these, viz. his par- 
ticular turn of mind, and particular consti- 
tution of body, incline and dispose him to 
some kind of sins, much more than to others. 
And the same it is, that renders the practice 
of certain virtues so much more easy to some, 
than it is to others. 

Now, these sins which men generally are 
most strongly inclined to, and the tempta- 
tions which they find they have least power 
to resist, are usually and properly called their 
constitutional sins ; their peculiar frailties ; 
and, in scripture, their own iniquities, Psal. 
xviii. 23. and the sins which " do most 
" easly beset them/ 5 Heb. xii. ]. 



54 

u As, in the humours of the body, so, in 
u the vices of the mind, there is one predo- 
'* minant, which has an ascendant over us, 
" and leads and governs us. It is in the 
" body of sin what the heart is in the body 
" of our nature; it begins to live first, and 
" dies last ; and, whilst it lives, it commu- 
" nicates life and spirit to the whole body 
" of sin ; and, when it dies, the body of sin 
" expires with it. It is the sin, to which 
" our constitution leads, our circumstances 
" betray, and custom enslaves us ; the sin, 
" to which not our virtues only, but vices, 
" too, lower their topsail, and submit ; the 
" sin, which, when we would impose upon 
w God and our consciences, we excuse and 
" disguise with all imaginable artifice and 
" sophistry ; but, when we are sincere with 
" both, we oppose first, and conquer last. 
" It is, in a word, the sin, which reigns and 
" rules in the unregenerate, and too often 
" alarms and disturbs (ah ! that I could say 
" no more) the regenerate." Lucas's Ser- 
mons, vol. i. p. 151. 

Some are more inclined to the sins of the 



55 



flesh ; sensuality, intemperance, uncleanness, 
sloth, self-indulgence, and excess in animal 
gratifications. Others more inclined to the 
sins of the spirit ; pride, malice, covetous- 
ness, ambition, wrath, revenge, envy, &c. 
And I am persuaded there are few, but, upon 
a thorough search into themselves, may 
find, that some one of these sins hath ordi- 
narily a greater power over them than the 
rest. Others often observe it in them, if 
they themselves do not. And for a man not 
to know his predominant iniquity, is great 
self-ignorance indeed, and a sign that he 
has all his life lived far from home ; because 
he is not acquainted with that in himself, 
which every one, who is but half an hour 
in his company, perhaps, may be able to in- 
form him of. Hence proceeds that extreme 
weakness which some discover, in censuring 
others for the very same faults they are 
guilty of themselves, and, perhaps, in a much 
higher degree ; on which the apostle Paul 
animadverts, Rom. ii. 1. 

It must be owned, it is an irksome and 
disagreeable business for a man to turn his 



own accuser; to search after his own faults, 
and keep his eye upon that which it gives 
him shame and pain to see. It is like tearing 
open an old wound. But it is better to do 
this, than to let it mortify. The w^oundsof 
the conscience, like those of the body, cannot 
be well cured till they are searched to the 
bottom ; and they cannot be searched with- 
out pain. A man, that is engaged in the 
study of himself, must be content to know 
the worst of himself. 

Do not, therefore, shut your eyes against 
your darling sin, or be averse to find it out. 
Why should you study to conceal or excuse 
it, and fondly cherish that viper in your 
bosom 1 u Some men deal by their sins, as 
" some ladies do by their persons. When 
" their beauty is decayed, they seek to hide 
" it. from themselves, by false glosses, and 
" from others by paint. So, many seek to 
" hide their sins from themselves by false 
u glosses, and from others by excuses, or 
" false colours.'' — Baxter. But the great- 
est cheat they put upon themselves. " They 
11 that cover their sins shall not prosper." 



Prov. xxviii. 13. It is dangerous self-flat- 
tery, to give soft and smoothing names to 
sins, in order to disguise their nature. Ra- 
ther lay your hand upon your heart, and 
thrust it into your bosom, though it come 
out (as Moses's did) leprous as snow. 
Exod. iv. G. 

And to find out our most beloved sin, let 
us consider what are those worldly objects 
or amusements / which give us the highest 
delight: this, it is probable, will lead us 
directly to some one of our darling iniquities, 
if it be a sin of commission ; and what are 
those duties which we read, or hear of, from 
the word of God, to which we find ourselves 
most disinclined : and this, in all likelihood, 
will help us to detect some of our peculiar 
sins of omission, which, without such pre- 
vious examination, we may not be sensible 
of. And thus may we make a proficiency 
in one considerable branch of self-know- 
ledge. 



58 



CHAP. VIIL 

The knowledge of our most dangerous temp- 
tations necessary to self-knowledge, 

VII. " A man, that rightly knows himself, 
u is acquainted with his peculiar tempta- 
" tions ; and knows when, and in what cir- 
" cumstances, he is in the greatest danger 
" of transgressing." 

Reader, if ever you would know yourself, 
you must examine this point thoroughly. 
And if you have never yet done it, make a 
pause when you have read this chapter, and 
do it now. Consider in what company you 
are most apt to lose the possession and go- 
vernment of yourself ; on what occasions 
you are apt to be most vain and unguarded, 
most warm and precipitant. Flee that com- 
pany, avoid those occasions, if you would 
keep your conscience clear. What is it 



59 

that robs you most of your time and your 
temper ? If you have a due regard to the 
improvement of the one, and the preserva- 
tion of the other, you will regret such a 
loss, and shun the occasions of it, as care- 
fully as you would a road beset with robbers. 
But especially must you attend to the 
occasions which most usually betray you 
into your favourite vices ; and consider the 
spring from whence they arise, and the cir- 
cumstances which most favour them. They 
arise, doubtless, from your natural temper, 
which strongly disposes and inclines you to 
them. That temper, then, or particular 
turn of desire, must be carefully watched 
over as a most dangerous quarter. And the 
opportunities and circumstances which fa- 
vour those inclinations must be resolutely 
avoided, as the strongest temptations. For 
the way to subdue a criminal inclination is, 
first, to avoid the known occasions that ex- 
cite it, and, then, to curb the first motions 
of it. And thus, having no opportunity of 
being indulged, it will, of itself, in time, lose 
its force, and fail of its wonted victory. . 



60 

The surest way to conquer, is sometimes 
to decline a battle ; to weary out the enemy, 
by keeping him at bay. Fabius Maximus 
did not use this stratagem more successfully 
against Hannibal, than a Christian may 
against his peculiar vice, if he be but watch- 
ful of his advantages. It is dangerous to 
provoke an unequal enemy to the fight, or 
to run into such a situation, where we can- 
not expect to escape without a disadvan- 
tageous encounter. 

It is of unspeakable importance, in order 
to self-knowledge and self-government, to 
be acquainted with all the accesses and 
avenues to sin, and to observe which way 
it is, that we are oftenest led to it ; and to 
set reason and conscience to guard those 
passes, those usual inlets to vice, which, if a 
man once enters, he will find a retreat ex- 
tremely difficult. 

" Watchfulness, which is always neces- 
" sary, is chiefly so when the first assaults 
" are made ; for, then, the enemy is most 
9 easily repulsed, if we never suffer him to 
" get within us, but, upon the very first 



61 

" approach, draw up our forces, and fight 
" him without the gate. And this will be 
" more manifest, if we observe by what 
" methods and degrees temptations grow 
u upon us. The first thing that presents 
" itself to the mind, is a plain, single thought ; 
" this, straight, is improved into a strong 
" imagination ; that, again, enforced by a 
" sensible delight; then follow evil motions; 
" and, when these are once stirred, there 
" wants nothing but the assent of the will, 
" and then the work is finished. Now, the 
" first steps of this are seldom thought 
" worth our care, sometimes not taken no- 
" tice of; so that the enemy is frequently 
" got close up to us, and even within our 
" trenches, before we observe him." — Tho- 
mas a Kempis, p. 22. 

As men have their particular sins, which 
do most easily beset them, so, they have 
their particular temptations, which do most 
easily overcome them. That may be a very 
great temptation to one, which is none at 
all to another. And if a man does not know 
what are his greatest temptations, he must 



62 

have been a great stranger, indeed, to the 
business of self-employment. 

As the subtle enemy of mankind takes 
care to draw men gradually into sin, so he 
usually draws them, by degrees, into temp- 
tation. As he disguises the sin, so he con- 
ceals the temptation to it ; well knowing «> 
that, were they but once sensible of their 
danger of sin, they would be ready to be 
upon their guard against it. Would we 
know ourselves thoroughly, then, we must 
get acquainted, not only with our most usual 
temptations, that we be not unawares drawn 
into sin, but with the previous steps, and 
preparatory circumstances, which make 
way for those temptations, that we be not 
drawn unawares into the occasions of sin ; 
for those things which lead us into tempta- 
tions, are to be considered as temptations, 
as well as those which immediately lead us 
into sin. And a man that knows himself 
will be aware of his remote temptations, as 
well as the more immediate ones ; e, g. If 
he find the company of a passionate man is 
a temptation (as Solomon tells us it is, Pro v. 



63 

xxii. 24, 25.)> he will not only avoid it, but 
those occasions that may lead him into it* 
And the petition, in the Lord's Prayer, makes 
it as much a man's duty to be upon his 
guard against temptation, as under it. Nor 
can a man pray from his heart, that God 
would not lead him into temptation, if he 
take no care himself to avoid it, 



64 



CHAP. IX. 

Self-knowledge discovers the secret preju- 
dices of the heart. 

VIII. Another important branch of self- 
knowledge is, for a man to be acquainted 
with his own prejudices, or those secret pre- 
possessions of his heart, which though so 
deep and latent, that he may not be sensible 
of them, are often so strong and prevalent, 
as to give a mighty, but imperceptible bias 
to the mind. 

And in this the great art of self-knowledge 
consists, more than in any one thing again. 
It being, therefore, a matter of such mighty 
consequence, and, at the same time, a point 
to which men, in general, are too inattentive, 
it deserves a more particular discussion. 

These prejudices of the human mind may 
be considered with regard to opinions, per- 
sons, and things. 



65 

(1.) With regard to opinions. 
It is a common observation, but well ex- 
pressed by a late celebrated writer, " that 
<f we set out in life with such poor begin- 
" nings of knowledge, and grow up under 
" such remains of superstition and ignorance, 
" such influences of company and fashion, 
" such insinuations of pleasure, &c. that it 
" is no wonder if men get habits of thinking 
«' only in one way; that these habits, in 
" time, grow rigid and confirmed ; and so 
" their minds come to be overcast with 
;6 thick prejudices, scarce penetrable by any 
" ray of truth, or light of reason/'— See 
Religion of Nature delineated, p. 129. 

There is no man but is more fond of one 
particular set or scheme of opinions in phi- 
losophy, politics, and religion, than he is of 
another, if he hath employed his thoughts 
at all about them. The question we should 
examine, then, is, How come we by these 
attachments? whence are we so fond of 
those particular notions ? did we come fairly 
by them ? or, were they imposed upon us, 
a,nd dictated to our easy belief, before we 

F 



66 

were able to judge of them ? This is most 
likely. For the impressions we early receive, 
generally grow up with us, and are those we 
least care to part with. 'However, which 
way soever we came by them, they must be 
re-examined, and brought to the touchstone 
of sound sense, solid reason, and plain scrip- 
ture. If they will not bear this, after hard 
rubbing, they must be discarded as no ge- 
nuine principles of truth, but only counter- 
feits of it. 

And, as reason and scripture must dis- 
cover our prejudices to us, so they only can 
help us to get rid of them. By these are 
we to rectify, and to these are we to conform, 
all our opinions and sentiments in religion 
as our only standard, exclusive of all other 
rules, light, or authority whatsoever. 

And care must further be taken, that we 
do not make scripture and reason bend and 
buckle to our notions, which will rather con- 
firm our prejudices than cure them. For, 
whatever cannot evidently be made out, with- 
out the help of overstrained metaphors, and 
the arts of sophistry, is much to be sus- 



67 



pected ; which used to make archbishop Til- 
lotson say, Non amo argutias in theologia, 
" I do not love subtilties in divinity." But, 
(2.) The human mind is very apt to be 
prejudiced, either for or against certain per- 
sons, as well as certain sentiments. And, 
as prejudice will lead a man to talk very 
unreasonably with regard to the latter, so, 
it will lead him to act very unreasonably with 
regard to the former. 

What is the reason, for instance, that we 
cannot help having a more hearty affection 
for some persons than others ? Is it from a 
similarity of taste and temper ? or something 
in their address, that flatters our vanity ? or 
something in their humour, that hits our 
fancy? or something in their conversation, 
that improves our understanding? or a cer- 
tain sweetness of disposition, and agreeable- 
ness of manner, that is naturally engaging ? 
or from benefits received or expected from 
them ? or from some eminent and distin- 
guished excellency in them ? or from none 
of these, but something else, we cannot tell 
what ? Such sort of inquiries will show us, 
f2 



68 

whether our esteem and affections be rightly 
placed, or flow from mere instinct, blind 
prejudice, or something worse. 

And so, on the other hand, with regard 
to our disaffection towards any one, or the 
disgust we have taken against him ; if we 
would know ourselves, we must examine 
into the bottom of this, and see, not only 
what is the pretended, but true cause of it ; 
whether it be a justifiable one, and our re- 
sentments duly proportioned to it. Is his 
manner of thinking, talking, and acting, 
quite different from mine, and therefore 
what I cannot approve? or have I received 
some real affront or injury from him? Be 
it so ; ,my continued resentment against him, 
on either of these accounts, may be owing, 
notwithstanding, more to some unreasonable 
prejudice in me than any real fault in him. 

For, as to the former, his way of thinking, 
talking, and acting, may possibly be juster 
than my own ; which the mere force of cus- 
tom and habit only makes me prefer to his. 
However, be his ever so wrong, he may not 
have had the same advantage of improving 



69 



his understanding, address, and conduct, as 
I have had ; and therefore, his defects herein 
are more excusable. And he may have 
many other kind of excellencies which I 
have not. " But he is not only ignorant 
" and unmannered, but insufferably vain, 
" conceited, and overbearing at the same 
" time." Why, that, perhaps, he cannot 
help; it is the fault of his nature. He is the 
object of pity, rather than resentment. And 
had I such a temper by nature, I should, 
perhaps, with all my self-improvement, find 
it a difficult thing to manage : and therefore, 
though I can never chuse such a one for an 
agreeable companion, yet I ought not to 
harbour a dislike to him, but love, and pity, 
and pray for him, as a person under a great 
misfortune, and be thankful that I am not 
under the same. " But he is quite blind to 
" this fault of his temper, and does not ap- 
" pear to be in the least sensible of it," 
Why, that is a greater misfortune still, and 
he ought to be the more pitied. 

And as to the other pretended ground of 
prejudice. " He hath often offended and 



70 



" injured me," let me consider, 1. Whether 
any offence was really intended ; whether I 
do not impute that to ill-nature, which was 
only owing to ill manners ; or that to design, 
which proceeded only from ignorance. Do 
I not take offence before it is given ? If so, 
the fault is mine, and not his : and the re- 
sentment I have conceived against him, I 
ought to turn upon myself. Again, 2. Did 
I not provoke him to it, when I knew his 
temper ? The fault is still my own. I did, 
or might know, the pride, passion, or per- 
verseness of his nature ; why, then, did I 
exasperate him ? A man, that will need- 
lessly rouse a lion, must not expect always 
to come off so favourably as the hero of La- 
Mancha. But, 3. Suppose I were not the 
aggressor, yet, how came I into his com- 
pany? who led me into the temptation? 
He hath acted according to his nature in 
what he hath done ; but I have not acted 
according to my reason, in laying myself so 
open to him. I knew him ; why did I not 
shun him, as I would any other dangerous 
animal, that does mischief by instinct? If 



71 



I must needs put my finger into a wasp's 
nest, why should I blame them for stinging 
me ? Or, 4. If I could not avoid his com- 
pany, why did I not arm myself? Why did 
I venture, defenceless, into so much danger ? 
Or, 5. Suppose he hath done me a real and 
undeserved injury, without my fault or pro- 
vocation, yet, does not my present discon- 
tent greatly aggravate it? Does it not ap- 
pear greater to me than it does to any body 
else ? or than it will to me, after the present 
ferment is over ? And, lastly, after all, must 
I never forgive ? How shall I be able to 
repeat the Lord's prayer, or read our Sa- 
viour's comment upon it, Matth. vi. 14, 15. 
with an unforgiving temper ? Do I not hope 
to be forgiven ten thousand talents? and 
cannot I forgive my fellow-servant thirty 
pence, when I know not but he hath re- 
pented, and God hath forgiven him, whose 
forgiveness I want infinitely more than my 
greatest enemy does mine ? 

Such considerations are of great use to 
soften our prejudices against persons; and 
at once to discover the true spring, and pre- 



72 



vent the bad effects of them. And happy 
would it be for a Christian, could he but 
call to mind, and apply to his relief, halt 
the good things which that excellent heathen 
emperor and philsopher, Marcus Antoninus, 
could say upon this subject ; some of which 
I have, for the benefit of the English reader, 
extracted, and thrown into the margin^. 

(3.) The mind is apt to be prejudiced 
against, or in favour of, certain things and 
actions, as well as certain sentiments and 
persons. 

If, therefore, you find in yourself a secret 
disinclination to any particular action or 
duty, and the mind begins to cast about for 
excuses and reasons to justify the neglect 
of it, consider the matter well ; go to the 
bottom of that reluctance, and search out 
what it is that gives the mind this aversion 
to it : whether it be the thing or action itself, 
or some discouraging circumstances that 
may attend it, or some disagreeable conse- 



*The plan of this edition excluding notes, the rea- 
der'is referred to the works of Marcus Antoninus. 



73 - 

quences that may possibly flow from it, or 
your supposed unfitness for it at present. 
Why, all these things may be only imagin- 
ary. And to neglect a plain and positive 
duty, upon such considerations, shows that 
you are governed by appearances, more than 
realities, by fancy, more than reason, and by 
inclination, more than conscience. 

But let fancy muster up all the discou- 
raging circumstances, and set them in the 
most formidable light, to bar your w^ay to a 
supposed duty ; for instance, " It is very 
" difficult, I want capacity, at least am so 
" indisposed to it at present, that I shall 
" make nothing of it ; and then it will be 
" attended with danger to my person, repu- 
" tation, or peace ; and the opposition X am 
u like to meet with is great," &c. But, 
after all, is the call of Providence clear ? is 
the thing a plain duty, such as reason, con- 
science, and scripture, your office, character, 
or personal engagements, call upon you to 
discharge ? If so, all the aforesaid objec- 
tions are vain and delusive ; and you have 
nothing to do, but to summon your cou- 



74 



rage, and, in dependence on divine help, to 
set about the business immediately, and in 
good earnest, and in the best and wisest 
manner you can: and, you may depend upon 
it, you will find the greatest difficulty to lie 
only in the first attempt; these frightful ap- 
pearances to be all visionary, the mere fig- 
ments of fancy, turning lambs into lions, 
and mole-hills into mountains ; and that 
nothing but sloth, folly, and self-indulgence, 
thus set your imagination on work, to deter 
you from a plain duty. Your heart would 
deceive you ; but you have found out the 
cheat, and do not be imposed upon. 

Again, suppose the thing done ; consider 
how it will look then. Take a view of it as 
past ; and whatever pains it may cost you, 
think whether it will not be abundantly re- 
compensed by the inward peace and plea- 
sure, which arises from a consciousness of 
having acted right. It certainly will. And 
the difficulties you now dread will enhance 
your future satisfaction. But think again, 
how you will bear the reflections of your 
own mind, if you wilfully neglect a plain and 



70 



necessary duty ; whether this will not occa- 
sion you much more trouble than all the 
pains you might be at in performing it. 
And a wise man will always determine him- 
self by the end, or by such a retrospective 
view of things, considered as past. 

Again, on the other hand, if you find a 
strong propension to any particular action, 
examine that with the like impartiality. 
Perhaps, it is what neither your reason nor 
conscience can fully approve ; and yet every 
motive to it is strongly urged, and every 
objection against it slighted. Sense and ap- 
petite grow importunate and clamorous, and 
want to lead, while reason remonstrates in 
vain. But turn not aside from that faithful 
and friendly|iTionitor, whilst, with a low still 
voice, she addresses you in this soft, but 
earnest, language: " Hear me, I beseech 
" you, but this one word more. The action 
" is indeed out of character ; what I shall 
" never approve. The pleasure of it is a 
" great deal over-rated ; you will certainly 
" be disappointed. It is a false appearance 
" that now deceives you, And what will 



76 

" you think of yourself when it is past, and 
u you come to reflect seriously on the mat- 
" ter? Believe it, you will then wish you 
" had taken me for your counsellor, instead 
" of those enemies of mine, your lusts and 
" passions, which have so often misled you, 
" though, you know, I never did." 

Such short recollections as these, and a 
little leisure to take a view of the nature 
and consequences of things or actions, be- 
fore we reject or approve them, will prevent 
much false judgment and bad conduct, and, 
by degrees, wear off the prejudices which 
fancy has fixed in the mind, either for or 
against any particular action ; teach us to 
distinguish between things and their ap- 
pearances ; strip them of those false colours 
that so often deceive us ; correct the sallies 
of the imagination, and leave the reins in 
the hand of reason. 

Before I dismiss this head, I must observe, 
that some of our strongest prejudices arise 
from an excessive self-esteem, or a too great 
value for our own good sense and under- 
standing. Philautus, in every thing, shows 



77 

himself very well satisfied with his own wis- 
dom, which makes him very impatient of 
contradiction, and gives him a distaste to all 
who shall presume to oppose their judgment 
to his in any thing. He had rather perse- 
vere in a mistake than retract it, lest his 
judgment should suffer, not considering that 
his ingenuity and good sense suffer much 
more by such obstinacy. The fulness of his 
self sufficiency makes him blind to those 
imperfections, which every one can see in 
him but himself. So, that however wise, 
sincere, and friendly, however gentle and 
seasonable your remonstrance may be, he 
takes it immediately to proceed from ill-na- 
ture or ignorance in you, but from no fault 
in him. 

Seneca, I remember, tells us a remarkable 
story, which very well illustrates this matter. 
Writing to his friend Lucilius, " My wife," 
says he, " keeps Harpastes in her house 
" still, who, you know, is a sort of family- 
" fool, and an incumbrance upon us. For 
" my part, I am far from taking any plea- 
" sure in such prodigies. If I have a mind 



18 



u to divert myself with a fool, I have not far 
" to go for one ; I can laugh at myself. 
" This silly girl, all on a sudden, lost her 
" eye-sight ; and (which, perhaps, may seem 
" incredible, but it is very true) she does 
" not know she is blind, but is every now 
" and then desiring her governess to lead 
" her abroad, saying, the house is dark. 
" Now, what we laugh at in this poor crea- 
" ture, we may observe, happens to us all. 
" No man knows that he is covetous or in- 
" satiable. Yet, with this difference, the 
" blind seek somebody to lead them, but 
" we are content to wander without a guide. 
" But why do we thus deceive ourselves ? 
" The disease is not without us, but fixed 
" deep within. And therefore is the cure 
" so difficult, because we know not that we 
" are sick." 



79 



CHAP. X. 

The necessity and means of knowing our 
natural tempers. 

IX. " Another very important branch 
" of self-knowledge is, the knowledge of 
" those governing passions or dispositions of 
u the mind, which generally form, what we 
" call, a man's natural temper." 

The difference of natural tempers seems 
to be chiefly owing to the different degrees 
of influence the several passions have upon 
the mind : e. g. If the passions are eager 
and soon raised, we say, the man is of a 
warm temper ; if more sluggish, and slowly 
raised, he is of a cool temper ; according as 
anger, malice, or ambition, prevail, he is of 
a fierce, churlish, or haughty temper ; the 
influence of the softer passions of love, pity, 
and benevolence forms a sweet, sympa- 



80 

thising, and courteous temper ; and where 
all the passions are duly poised, and the 
milder and pleasing ones prevail, they make 
what is commonly called, a quiet, good-na- 
tured man. 

So that, it is the prevalence or predomi- 
nance of any particular passion, which gives 
the turn or tincture to a man's temper, by 
w hich he is distinguished, and for which he 
is loved and esteemed, or shunned and de- 
spised, by others. 

Now, what this is, those we converse with 
are soon sensible of. They presently see 
through us, and know the fault of our tem- 
per, and order their behaviour to us accord- 
ingly. If they are wise and well-mannered, 
they will avoid touching the string, which, 
they know, will jar and raise a discord within 
us. If they are our enemies, they will do 
it on purpose to set us on tormenting our- 
selves. And our friends we must suffer 
sometimes, with a gentle hand, to touch it, 
either by way of pleasant raillery, or faith- 
ful advice. 

But a man must be greatly unacquainted 



81 



with himself, if he is ignorant of his predo- 
minant passion, or distinguishing temper, 
when every one else observes it. And yet, 
how common is this piece of self-ignorance ! 
The two apostles, Peter and John, disco- 
vered it in that very action, wherein they 
meant to express nothing but a hearty zeal 
for their master's honour ; which made him 
tell them, " That they knew not w^hat man- 
" ner of spirit they were of." Luke ix. 5. ; 
i. e. that, instead of a principle of love and 
genuine zeal for hin, they were, at that time, 
governed by a spirit of pride, revenge, and 
cruelty. And that the apostle John should 
be liable to this censure, whose temper 
seemed to be all love and sweetness, is a me- 
morable instance how difficult a thing it is 
for a man at all times to know his own spirit ; 
and that that passion, which seems to have 
the least power over his mind, may, on some 
occasions, insensibly gain a criminal as- 
cendant there. 

And the necessity of a perfect knowledge 
of our reigning passions appears further 
from hence ; because they not only give a 

G 



82 



tincture to the temper, but to the understand- 
ing also, and throw a strong bias on the judg- 
ment. They have much the same effect 
upon the eye of the mind, as some distem- 
pers have upon the eyes of the body ; if they 
do not put it out, they weaken it, or throw 
false colours before it, and make it form a 
wrong judgment of things: and, in short, 
are the source of those fore-mentioned pre- 
judices, which so often abuse the human 
understanding. 

Whatever the different passions them- 
selves, that reign in the mind, may be owing 
to ; whether to the different texture of the 
bodily organs, or the different quality or 
motion of the animal spirits, or to the native 
turn and cast of the soul itself ; yet certain 
it is, that men's different ways of thinking 
are much according to the predominance of 
their different passions, and especially with 
regard to religion. Thus, e. g. we see me- 
lancholy people are apt to throw too much 
gloom upon their religion, and represent it 
in a very uninviting and unlovely view, as 
all austerity and mortification ; whilst they, 



83 

who are governed by the more gay and 
cheerful passions, are apt to run into the 
other extreme, and too much to mingle the 
pleasures of sense with those of religion ; 
and are as much too lax, as the other too se- 
vere. And so, by the prejudice or bias of 
their respective passions, or the force of their 
natural temper, are led into the mistake on 
both sides. 

"So that, would a man know himself, he 
" must study his natural temper, his consti- 
" tutional inclinations, and favourite pas- 
" sions ; for, by these, a man's judgment is 
" easily perverted, and a wrong bias hung 
" upon his mind : these are the inlets of pre- 
" judice, the unguarded avenues of the mind, 
" by which a thousand errors and secret 
" faults find admission, without being ob- 
u served or taken notice of." — Spect. Vol. 
vi. N° 899. 

And, that we may more easily come at 
the knowledge of our predominant affections, 
let us consider what outward events do most 
impress and move us, and in what manner. 
What is it that usually creates the greatest 
G2 



84 

pain or pleasure in the mind ? As for pain, 
a stoic, indeed, may tell us, " that we must 
" keep things at a distance ; let nothing that 
" is outward come within us ; let externals 
" be externals still." But the human make 
will scarce bear the rigour of that philoso- 
phy. Outward things, after all, will impress 
and affect us. And there is no harm in 
this, provided they do not get the posses- 
sion of us, overset our reason, or lead us to 
act unbecoming a man or a Christian. And 
one advantage we may reap from hence is, 
the manner or degree in which outward 
things impress us, may lead us into a more 
perfect knowledge of ourselves, and discover 
to us our weak side, and the particular pas- 
sions which have most power over us. 

Our pleasures will likewise discover our 
reigning passions, and the true temper and 
disposition of the soul. If it be captivated 
by the pleasures of sin, it is a sign its pre- 
vailing taste is very vicious and corrupt ; if 
with the pleasures of sense, very low and 
sordid ; if imaginary pleasures, and the 
painted scenes of fancy and romance, do 



85 

most entertain it, the soul hath then a tri- 
fling turn; if the pleasures of science, or 
intellectual improvements, are those it is 
most fond of, it has, then, a noble and re* 
fined taste ; but, if the pleasures of religion 
and divine contemplation do, above all 
others, delight and entertain it, it has then 
its true and proper taste; its temper is, as it 
should be, pure, divine, and heavenly, pro- 
vided these pleasures spring from a true re- 
ligious principle, free from that superstitious 
bigotry, and enthusiasm, under which it is 
often disguised. 

And thus, by carefully observing what it 
is that gives the mind the greatest pain and 
torment, or the greatest pleasure and enter- 
tainment, we come at the knowledge of its 
reigning passions, and prevailing temper and 
disposition. 

" Include thyself, then, O my soul, within 
u the compass of thine own heart ; if it be 
" not large, it is deep : and thou wilt there 
" find exercise enough. Thou wilt never 
" be able to sound it ; it cannot be known, 
H but by him who tries the thoughts and 



86 



< reins. But dive into this subject as deep 

< as thou canst. Examine thyself; and this 
' knowledge of that which passes within 
c thee, will be of more use to thee than the 
c knowledge of all that passes in the w T orld. 
'Concern not thyself with the wars and 
' quarrels of public or private persons. 

5 Take cognizance of those contests which 
c are between thy flesh and thy spirit ; be- 

6 twixt the law of thy members, and that of 
thy understanding. Appease those differ- 
ences. Teach thy flesh to be in subjec- 
tion. Replace reason on its throne, and 

6 give it piety for its counsellor. Tame thy 
' passions, and bring them under bondage. 
' Put thy little state in good order ; govern 
6 wisely and holily those numerous people 
' which are contained in so little a kingdom ; 
' that is to say, that multitude of affections, 
' thoughts, opinions, and passions, which 
are in thine heart."— Jurieu's Method 
of Christian Devotion, Part iii. Chap. 3. 



8? 



CHAP. XL 

Concerning the secret springs of our actions. 

X. "Another considerable branch of self- 
" acquaintance is, the knowledge of the true 
" motives and secret springs of our actions.*' 

And this sometimes cannot, without much 
pains, be acquired. But, for want of it, we 
shall be in danger of passing a false judg- 
ment upon our actions, and of having a 
wrong opinion of several parts of our con- 
duct. 

It is not only very possible, but very com- 
mon, for men to be ignorant of the chief 
inducements of their behaviour ; and to ima- 
gine they act from one motive, whilst they 
are apparently governed by another. If we 
examine our views, and look into our hearts 
naiTowly, we shall find that they more fre- 
quently deceive us in this respect than we 



83 

are aware of, by persuading us, that we are 
governed by much better motives than we 
are. The honour of God, and the interest 
of religion, maybe the open and avowed 
motive, whilst secular interest and secret 
vanity may be the hidden and true one. 
While we think we are serving God, we 
may be only sacrificing to Mammon. We 
may, like Jehu, boast our zeal for the Lord, 
when we are only animated by the heat of 
our natural passions ; may cover a censorious 
spirit under a cloak of piety ; and giving 
admonitions to others, may be only gi?ing 
vent to our spleen. 

How many come to the place of public 
worship out of custom or curiosity, who 
would be thought to come thither only out 
of conscience ? And whilst their external 
and professed view is to serve God, and 
gain good to their souls, their secret and in- 
ward motive is only to show themselves to 
advantage, or to avoid singularity, and pre- 
vent others making observations on their 
absence. Munificence and almsgiving may 
often proceed from a principle of pride 



89 

and party-spirit, when it may appear to be 
the effect of pure piety and charity ; and 
seeming acts of friendship, from a motive 
of selfishness. 

By thus disguising our motives, we may 
impose upon men, but, at the same time, 
we impose upon ourselves ; and, whilst we 
are deceiving others, our own hearts deceive 
us. And, of all impostures, self-deception 
is the most dangerous, because least sus- 
pected. 

Now, unless we examine this point nar- 
rowly, we shall never come to the bottom 
of it ; and unless we come at the true spring 
and real motive of o r actions, we shall never 
be able to form a r ght judgment of them ; 
and they may appear very different in our 
own eye, and in the eye of the world, from 
what they do in the eye of God. " For 
" the Lord eeth not as man seeth : for man 
" looketh on the outward appearance, but 
" the Lord looketh on the heart." 1 Sam. 
xvi. 7. And hence it is, that " that which 
" is highly esteemed among men, is often- 



90 



" times abomination in the sight of God." 
Luke xvi. 15. " Every way of man is right 
" in his own eyes ; but the Lord pondereth 
" the hearts." Prov. xxi. 2. 



91 



CHAP. XII. 

Every one that knows himself is, in a parti- 
cular manner, sensible how far he is go- 
verned by a thirst for applause. 

XI. " Another thing necessary to unfold 
" a man's heart to himself, is, to consider 
" what is his appetite for fame, and by what 
" means he seeks to gratify that particular 
" passion." 

This passion, in particular, having always 
so main a stroke, and oftentimes so insus- 
pected an influence on the most important 
parts of our conduct, a perfect acquaintance 
with it, is a very material branch of self- 
knowledge, and therefore requires a distinct 
and particular consideration. 

Emulation, like the other passions of the 
human mind, shows itself much more plainly, 
and works much more strongly, in some, 



92 

than it does in others. It is, in itself, inno- 
cent, and was planted in our natures for very 
wise ends, and is capable of serving very 
excellent purposes, if kept under proper re- 
strictions and regulations. But, without 
these, it degenerates into a mean and crimi- 
nal ambition. 

When a man finds something within him 
that pushes him on to excel in worthy deeds, 
or in actions truly good and virtuous, and 
pursues that design with a steady unaffected 
ardour, without reserve or falsehood, it is a 
true sign of a noble spirit : For that love of 
praise can never be criminal, that excites 
and enables a man to do a great deal more 
good than he could do without it. And per- 
haps there never was a fine genius, or a 
noble spirit, that rose above the common 
level, and distinguished itself by high attain- 
ments in what is truly excellent, but was 
secretly, and perhaps insensibly prompted 
by the impulse of this passion. 

But, on the contrary, if a man's views 
centre only in the applause of others, whe- 
ther it be deserved or not ; if he pants after 



93 

popularity and fame, not regarding how he 
comes by it ; if his passion for praise urge 
him to stretch himself beyond the line of 
his capacity, and to attempt things to which 
he is unequal ; to condescend to mean arts, 
and low dissimulation, for the sake of a 
name ; and, in a sinister, indirect way, sue 
hard for a little incense, not caring from 
whom he receives it; it then degenerates 
into what is properly called vanity. And 
if it excites a man to wicked attempts, and 
makes him willing to sacrifice the esteem of 
all wise and good men, to the shouts of the 
giddy multitude; if his ambition overleaps 
the bounds of decency and truth, and breaks 
through obligations of honour and virtue, 
it is then not only vanity, but vice ; a vice 
the most destructive to the peace and happi- 
ness of human society, and which, of all 
others, have made the greatest havoc and 
devastation among men. 

What an instance have we here of the 
wide difference between common opinion 
and truth ! That a vice so big with mis- 
chief and misery, should be mistaken for a 



94 



virtue ! and that they, who have been most 
infamous for it, should be crowned with 
laurels, even by those who have been ruined 
by it, and have those laurels perpetuated by 
the common consent of men through after 
ages ! Seneca's judgment of Alexander is 
certainly more agreeable to truth than the 
common opinion ; who called him " a pub- 
" lie cut-throat, rather than a hero ; and 
" who, in seeking only to be a terror to man- 
" kind, arose to no greater an excellence, 
" than what belonged to the most hurtful 
" and hateful animals on earth." 

Certain it is, that these false heroes are, 
of all men, most ignorant of themselves, 
who seek their gain and glory from the de- 
struction of their own species ; and, by this 
wicked ambition, entail infamy and curses 
upon their name and family, instead of that 
immortal glory they pursued, and imagined 
they had attained. According to the pro- 
phet's words, " Woe to him who coveteth 
" an evil covetousness to his house, that he 
" may set his nest on high ; that he may 
46 be delivered from the power of evil. Thou 



95 

ci hast consulted shame to thine house, by 
" cutting off many people ; and hast sinned 
" against thy soul." Hab. ii. 9, 10. 

Now, no man can truly know himself, till 
he be acquainted with this, which is so often 
the secret and unperceived spring of his ac- 
tions, and observes how far it governs and 
influences him in his conversation and con- 
duct. 

And, to correct the irregularity and extra- 
vagance of this passion, let us but reflect 
how airy and unsubstantial a pleasure the 
highest gratifications of it afford ; how 
many cruel mortifications it exposes us to, 
by awakening the envy of others ; to what 
meanness it often makes us submit; how 
frequently it loseth its end, by pursuing it 
with too much ardour (for virtue and real 
excellence will rise to the view of the world, 
though it be not mounted on the wings of 
ambition, which, by soaring too high, pro- 
cures but a more fatal fall ;) and how much 
more solid pleasure the approbation of con- 
science will yield, than the acclamations of 
ignorant and mistakeu men, who, judging 



96 



by externals only, cannot know our true 
character, and whose commendations a wise 
man would rather despise than court. " Ex- 
" amine but the size of people's sense, and 
" the condition of their understanding, and 
" you will never be fond of popularity, nor 
" afraid of censure; nor solicitous what 
" judgment they may form of you, who 
" know not how to judge rightly of them- 
" selves." — Marc. Anton. Lib. ix. § 18. 



97 



CHAP. XIII. 

What kind of knowledge we are already fur- 
nished with, and what degree of esteem 
we set upon it. 

XII. " A man can never rightly know 
" himself, unless he examines into his know- 
" ledge of other things." 

We must consider, then, the knowledge 
we have ; and whether we do not set too 
high a price upon it, and too great a value 
upon oursel/es on the account of it ; of what 
real use it is to us, and what effect it hath 
upon us ; whether it does not make us too 
stiff, unsociable, and assuming ; testy and 
supercilious, and ready to despise others for 
their supposed ignorance. If so, our know- 
ledge, be it what it will, does us more harm 
than good. We were better without it ; 
ignorance itself would not render us so ridi- 



98 

eulous. Such a temper, with all our know* 
ledge, shows that we know not ourselves. 

" A man is certainly proud of that know- 
" ledge he despises others for the want of." 

How common is it for some men to be 
fond of appearing to know more than they 
do, and of seeming to he thought men of 
knowledge ! To which end, they exhaust 
their fund almost in all companies, to out- 
shine the rest. So that, in two or three 
conversations, they are drawn dry, and you 
see to the bottom of them much sooner than 
you could at first imagine. And even that 
torrent of learning, which they pour* upon 
you at first so unmercifully, rather confounds, 
than satisfies you. Their visible aim is, not 
to inform your judgment, but display their 
own. You have many things to query and 
except against, but their loquacity gives you 
no room ; and their good sense, set off 
to so much advantage, strikes a modest man 
dumb. If you insist upon your right to 
examine, they retreat, either in confusion 
or equivocation ; and, like the scuttie-fish, 
throw a large quantity of ink behind them, 



99 



that you may not see where to pursue. 
Whence this foible flows is obvious enough. 
Self-knowledge would soon correct it. 

But, as some ignorantly affect to be more 
knowing than they are, so, others vainly 
affect to be more ignorant than they are; 
who, to show they have greater insight and 
penetration than other men, insist upon the 
absolute uncertainty of science ; will dispute 
even first principles ; grant nothing as cer- 
tain, and so run into downright Pyrrhonism ; 
the too common effect of abstracted debates 
excessively refined. 

Every one is apt to set the greatest value 
upon that kind of knowledge in w T hich he 
imagines he himself most excels, and to un- 
dervalue all other kinds of knowledge, in 
comparison of it. There wants some cer- 
tain rule, then, by which every man's know r - 
iedge is to be tried, and the value of it 
estimatedo And let it b'e this : " That is 
•' the best and most valuable kind of know- 
" ledge, that is most subservient to the best 
" ends, i. e. which tends to make a man 
u wiser and better, or more agreeable and 
k2 



100 

c < useful both to himself and others." For 
knowledge is but a means that relates to 
some end. And as all means are to be 
judged of by the /excellency of their ends, 
and their expediency to produce them ; so, 
that must be the best knowledge that hath 
the directest tendency to promote the best 
ends, viz. a man's own true happiness, and 
that of others ; in which the glory of God, 
the ultimate end, is ever necessarily com- 
prised. 

Now, if we were to judge of the several 
kinds of science by this rule, we should find, 
1, Some of them to be very hurtful and per- 
nicious ; as tending to pervert the true end 
of knowledge ; to ruin a man's own happi- 
ness, and make him more injurious to so- 
ciety. Such is the knowledge of vice, the 
various temptations to it, and the secret 
ways of practising it ; especially the arts of 
dissimulation, fraud, and dishonesty. 2. 
Others will be found unprofitable and use- 
less; as those parts of knowledge, which, 
though they may take up much time and 
pains to acquire, yet answer no valuable 



101 

purpose ; and serve only for amusement, 
and the entertainment of the imagination : 
For instance, an acquaintance with plays, 
novels, games, and modes, in which a man 
may be very critical and expert, and yet not 
a whit the wiser or more useful man. 3. 
Other kinds of knowledge are good only 
relatively, or conditionally, and may be more 
useful to one than another ; viz. a skill in a 
man's particular occupation or calling, on 
which his credit, livelihood, or usefulness 
in the world depends. And, as this kind of 
knowledge is valuable in proportion to its 
end, so, it ought to be cultivated with a 
diligence and esteem answerable to that. 
Lastly, Other kinds of knowledge are good, 
absolutely and universally ; viz. the know- 
ledge of God and ourselves, the nature of 
our final happiness, and the way to it. This 
is equally necessary to all. And how thank- 
ful should we be, that we, who live under 
the light of the gospel, and enjoy that light 
in its perfection and purity, have so many 
happy means and opportunities of attaining 
this most useful and necessary kind of know- 
ledge. 



J 02 

A man can never understand himself, then, 
till he makes a right estimate of his know- 
ledge ; till he examines what kind of know- 
ledge he values himself most upon, and most 
diligently cultivates ; how high a value he 
sets upon it ; what good it does him ; what 
effect it hath upon him ; what he is the better 
for it ; what end it answers now ; or what is 
like to answer hereafter. 

There is nothing in which a man's self- 
ignorance discovers itself more, than in the 
esteem he hath for his understanding, or for 
himself on account of it. It is a trite and 
true observation, " That empty things make 
" the most sound." Men of the least know- 
ledge are most apt to make a show of it, and 
to value themselves upon it ; which is very 
visible in forward confident youth, raw con- 
ceited academics, and those who, unedu- 
cated in youth, betake themselves in later 
life to reading, without taste or judgment, 
only as an accomplishment, and to make a 
show of scholarship ; who have just learning 
enough to spoil company, and render them- 
selves ridiculous, but not enough to make 
either themselves or others at all the wiser. 



103 

But, beside the foremen titmed kinds of 
knowledge, there is another, which is com- 
monly called false knowledge ; which, though 
it often imposes upon men under the show 
and semblance of true knowledge, is really 
worse than ignorance. Some men have 
learned a great many things, and have taken 
a great deal of pains to learn them, and stand 
very high in their own opinion on account 
of them, which yet they must unlearn before 
they are truly wise. They have been at a 
vast expence of time, and pains, and pa- 
tience, to heap together, and to confirm 
themselves in a set of wrong notions, which 
they lay up in their minds as a fund of valu- 
able knowledge ; which, if they try by the 
forementioned rules, viz. " The tendency 
" they have to make them w^iser and better 
" or more useful and beneficial to others," 
will be found to be worth just nothing at all. 

Beware of this false knowledge ; for, as 
there is nothing of which men are more 
obstinately tenacious, so, there is nothing 
that renders them more vain or more averse 
to self-knowledge. Of all things, men are 
most fond of their wrong notions. 



104 

The apostle Paul often speaks of these 
men and their self-sufficiency, in very poig- 
nant terms ; who, though they seem wise, 
" yet," says he, " must become fools before 
" they are wise." 1 Cor. iii. 18. Though 
they think they know a great deal, " know 
" nothing yet as they ought to know." 
1 Cor. viii. 2. But " deceive themselves 
" by thinking themselves something, when 
" they are nothing." Gal. vi. 3. And, whilst 
they " desire to be teachers of others, un- 
" derstand not what they say, nor whereof 
" they affirm." 1 Tim. i. 7. And " want 
" themselves to be taught what are the first 
" rudiments and principles of wisdom." 
Heb. v. 12. 



105 



CHAP. XIV. 

Concerning the knowledge, guard, and go- 
vernment of our thoughts. 

XIII. " Another part of self-knowledge 
" consists in a due acquaintance with our 
" own thoughts, and the workings of the 
" imagination." 

The right government of the thoughts 
requires no small art, vigilance, and resolu- 
tion; but it is a matter of such vast import- 
ance to the peace and improvement of the 
mind, that it is worth while to be at some 
pains about it. A man, that hath so nume- 
rous and turbulent a family to govern as his 
own thoughts, which are so apt to be under 
the influence and command of his passions 
and appetites, ought not to be long from 
home : If he is, they will soon grow muti- 
nous and disorderly under the conduct of 



106 

those two headstrong guides, and raise great 
clamours and disturbances, and sometimes 
on the slightest occasions; and a more 
dreadful scene of misery can hardly be ima- 
gined, than that which is occasioned by such 
a tumult and uproar within, when a raging 
conscience, or inflamed passions, are let 
loose without check or controul. A city in 
flames, or the mutiny of a drunken crew 
aboard, who have murdered the captain, 
and are butchering one another, are but faint 
emblems of it. The torment of the mind, 
under such an insurrection and merciless 
ravage of the passions, is not easy to be con- 
ceived. The most revengeful man cannot 
wish his enemy a greater. 

Of w r hat vast importance, then, is it for 
a man to watch over his thoughts, in order 
to a right government of them ? to consider 
what kind of thoughts find the easiest ad- 
mission; in what manner they insinuate 
themselves, and upon what occasions ? 

It was an excellent rule which a wise hea- 
then prescribed to himself, in his private 
meditations: " Manage,' 5 saith he, " all 



107 

" your actions and thoughts in such a man- 
" ner, as if you were just going out of the 
" world." — Marc. Anton. Med. Lib. 2. 
§ 11. Again, saith he, " A man is seldom, 
" if ever, unhappy for not knowing the 
" thoughts of others; but he, that does not 
" attend to the motions of his own, is cer- 
" tainly miserable." — Marc. Anton. Lib. 
2. §8. 

It may be worth our while, then, here to 
discuss this matter a little more particularly ; 
and consider, I. What kind of thoughts are 
to be excluded or rejected. And, 2. What 
ought to be indulged and entertained in the 
heart. 

I. Some thoughts ought to be imme- 
diately banished as soon as they have found 
entrance. And, if we are often troubled 
with them, the safest way will be to keep a 
good guard on the avenues of the mind, by 
which they enter, and avoid those occasions 
which commonly excite them. For, some- 
times, it is much easier to prevent a bad 
thought entering the mind, than to get rid 
of it when it is entered. >More particularly^ 



108 

(1.) Watch against all fretful and discon- 
tented thoughts, which do but chafe and 
wound the mind to no purpose. To har- 
bour these, is to do yourself more injury 
than it is in the power of your greatest 
enemy to do you. It is equally a Christian's 
interest and duty to " learn, in whatever 
" state he is, therewith to be content." 
Phil. iv. 11. 

(2) Harbour not too anxious and appre- 
hensive thoughts. By giving w T ay to tor- 
menting fears, suspicions of some approach- 
ing danger or troublesome event, some not 
only anticipate, but double the evil they 
fear ; and undergo much more from the ap- 
prehension of it before it comes, than by 
suffering it when it is come. This is a great, 
but common weakness, which a man should 
endeavour to arm himself against, by such 
kind of reflections as these ; " Are not all 
" these events under the certain direction 
" of a wise Providence? If they befal me, 
" they are then that share of suffering which 
<c God hath appointed me, and which he 
" expects I should bear as a Christian. 



109 

" How often hath my too timorous heart 
" magnified former trials, which I found to 
" be less in reality, than they appeared in 
" their approach ? And perhaps the for- 
" midable aspect they put on, is only a stra- 
" tagem of the great enemy of my best 
" interest, designed on purpose to divert me 
" from some point of duty, or to draw me 
" into some sin, to avoid them. However, 
" why should I torment myself to no pur- 
" pose? The pain and affliction the dreaded 
" evil will give me, when it comes, is of 
" God's sending ; the pain I feel in the ap- 
€ i prehension of it, before it comes, is of my 
" own procuring. Whereby I often make 
" my sufferings more than double ; for this 
" overplus of them, which I bring upon my- 
" self, is often greater than that measure of 
" them which the hand of Providence im- 
" Mediately brings upon me." 

(3) Dismiss, as soon as may be, all angry 
and wrathful thoughts. These will but 
canker and corrode the mind, and dispose 
it to the worst temper in the world, viz. that 
of fixed malice and revenge. " Anger may 



112 

upon things that never were, and perhaps 
never will be ; to give you a visionary plea- 
sure in the prospect of what you have not 
the least reason to hope, or a needless pain 
in the apprehension of what you have not 
the least reason to fear. The truth is, next 
to a clear conscience, and a sound judgment, 
there is not a greater blessing than a regular 
and well-governed imagination ; to be able 
to view things as they are, in their true 
light and proper colours ; and to distinguish 
the false images that are painted on the 
fancy, from the representations of truth and 
reason. For, how common a thing is it for 
men, before they are aware, to confound 
reason and fancy, truth and imagination, 
together ? To take the flashes of the animal 
spirits for the light of evidence ; and think 
they believe things to be true or false, when 
they only fancy them to be so ; and fancy 
them to be so, because they would have 
them so ; not considering that mere fancy is 
only the ignis faiuus of the mind ; which 
often appears brightest when the mind is 
most covered with darkness, and will be sure 



113 

to lead them astray who follow it as their 
guide. Near akin to these are, 

(7.) Romantic and chimerical thoughts. 
By which I mean that kind of wild-fire, 
which the briskness of the animal spirits 
sometimes suddenly flashes upon the mind, 
and excites images that are so extremely 
ridiculous and absurd, that one can scarce 
forbear wondering how they could get ad* 
mittance. These random flights of fancy 
are soon gone ; and so differ from that cas« 
tie-building of the imagination before-men- 
tioned, which is a more settled amusement 
But these are too incoherent and senseless 
to be of long continuance ; and are the 
maddest sallies, and the most ramping reve- 
ries of the fancy that can be. I know not 
whether my reader understands now what 
I mean ; but if he attentively regards all 
that passes through his mind, perhaps he 
may, hereafter, by experience. 

(8.) Repel all impure and lascivious 

thoughts, which taint and pollute the mind ; 

and though hid from men, are known to 

God, in whose eye they are abominable. 

I 



114 

Our Saviour warns us against these, as a kind 
of spiritual fornication, Matth. v. 28. and 
inconsistent with that purity of heart which 
his gospel requires. 

(9.) Take care how you too much indulge 
gloomy and melancholy thoughts. Some 
are disposed to see every thing in the worst 
light. A black cloud hangs hovering over 
their minds, which when it falls in showers 
through the eyes, is dispersed, and all within 
is serene again. This is often purely me- 
chanical ; and owing, either to some fault 
in the bodily constitution, or some accidental 
disorder in the animal frame. However, 
one that consults the peace of his own mind, 
will be upon his guard against this, which so 
often robs him of it. 

(10.) On the other hand, let not the ima- 
gination be too sprightly and triumphant. 
Some are as unreasonably exalted as others 
are depressed; and the same person at dif- 
ferent times, often runs into both extremes, 
according to the different temper and flow 
of the animal spirits. And therefore, the 
thoughts, which so eagerly crowd into the 



115 

mind at such times, ought to be suspected 
and well guarded, otherwise they will impose 
upon our judgments, and lead us to form 
such a notion of ourselves, and of things, 
which we shall soon see fit to alter, when 
the mind is in a more settled and sedate 
frame. 

Before we let our thoughts judge of 
things, we must set reason to judge our 
thoughts ; for they are not always in a pro- 
per condition to execute that office. We 
do not believe the character which a man 
gives us of another, unless we have a good 
opinion of his own ; so, neither should we 
believe the verdict which the mind pro- 
nounces, till we first examine, whether it be 
impartial and unbiassed ; whether it be in a 
proper temper to judge, and have proper 
lights to judge by. The want of this pre- 
vious act of self-judgment is the cause of so 
much self-deception and false judgment. 

Lastly, with abhorrence reject immedi- 
ately all profane and blasphemous thoughts, 
which are sometimes suddenly injected into 
i 2 



116 

the mind, we know not how, though we may- 
give a pretty good guess from whence. And 
all those thoughts which are apparently 
temptations and inducements to sin, our 
Lord hath, by his example, taught us to treat 
in this manner, Matth. iv. 10. 

These, then, are the thoughts we should 
carefully guard against. And as they will 
(especially some of them) be frequently in- 
sinuating themselves into the heart, remem- 
ber to set reason at the door of it to guard 
the passage, and bar their entrance, or drive 
them out forthwith when entered ; not only 
as impertinent, but mischievous intruders. 

But, II. There are other kinds of thoughts 
which we ought to indulge, and with great 
care and diligence retain and improve. 

Whatever thoughts give the mind a ra- 
tional or religious pleasure, and tend to im- 
prove the heart and understanding, are to 
be favoured, often recalled, and carefully 
cultivated. Nor should we dismiss them, 
till they have made some impressions on the 
mind which are like to abide there, 



117 

And to bring the mind into a habit of re- 
covering, retaining, and improving such 
thoughts, two things are necessary. 

1. To habituate ourselves to a close and 
rational way of thinking. And, 2. To moral 
reflections and religious contemplations. 

(1.) To prepare and dispose the mind for 
the entertainment of good and useful 
thoughts, we must take care to habituate it 
to a close and rational way of thinking. 

When you have started a good thought, 
pursue it; do not presently lose sight of it, 
or suffer any trifling suggestion that may 
intervene to divert you from it. Dismiss it 
not till you have sifted and exhausted it ; 
and well considered the several consequences 
and inferences that result from it. How- 
ever, retain not the subject any longer than 
you find your thoughts run freely upon it; 
for, to confine them to it when it is quite 
worn out, is to give them an unnatural bent, 
without sufficient employment; which will 
make them flag, or be more apt to run off 
to something else. 

And, to keep the mind intent on the sub- 



118 

ject you think of, you must be at some pains 
to recall and refix your desultory and ram- 
bling thoughts. Lay open the subject in 
as many lights and views as it is capable of 
being represented in : clothe your best ideas 
in pertinent and well-chosen words, delibe- 
rately pronounced ; or commit them to 
writing. 

Whatever be the subject, admit of no in- 
ferences from it, but what you see plain and 
natural. This is the way to furnish the 
mind with true and solid knowledge, as, on 
the contrary, false knowledge proceeds from 
not understanding the subject, or drawing 
inferences from it which are forced, and 
unnatural, and allowing to those precarious 
inferences, or consequences drawn from 
them, the same degree of credibility as to 
the most rational and best established prin- 
ciples. 

Beware of a superficial, slight, or confused 
view of things. Go to the bottom of them, 
and examine the foundation ; and be satisfied 
with none but clear and distinct ideas (when 
they can be had) in every thing you read, 



119 

hear, or think of. For, resting in imperfect 
and obscure ideas, is the source of much 
confusion and mistake. 

Accustom yourself to speak naturally, 
pertinently, and rationally, on all subjects, 
and you will soon learn to think so on the 
best ; especially if you often converse with 
those persons that speak, and those authors 
that write, in that manner. 

And such a regulation and right manage- 
ment of your thoughts and rational powers, 
will be of great and general advantage to 
you, in the pursuit of useful knowledge, and 
a good guard against the levities and frantic 
sallies of the imagination. Nor will you be 
sensible of any disadvantage attending it, 
excepting one, viz. its making you more 
sensible of the weakness and ignorance of 
others, who are often talking in a random, 
inconsequential manner ; and whom, how- 
ever, it may oftentimes be more prudent to 
bear with, than contradict. But the vast 
benefit this method will be of in tracing 
out truth, and detecting error, and the satis- 
faction it will give you in the cool and re« 



120 

gular exercises of self-employment, and in 
the retaining, pursuing, and improving good 
and useful thoughts, will more than compen- 
sate that petty disadvantage. 

(2.) If we would have the mind furnished 
and entertained with good thoughts, we 
must inure it to moral and religious subjects. 
It is certain the mind cannot be more 
nobly or usefully employed, than in such 
kind of contemplations : because the know- 
ledge it thereby acquires, is, of all other, 
the most excellent knowledge, and that both 
in regard to its object and its end ; the ob- 
ject of it being God, and the end of it eter- 
nal happiness. 

The great end of religion is, to ".make 
" us like God, and conduct us to the enjoy- 
" ment of him." And whatever hath not 
this plain tendency, and especially if it have 
the contrary, men may call religion (if they 
please ;) but they cannot call it more out 
of its name. And whatever is called reli- 
gious knowledge, if it does not direct us 
in the way to this end, is not religious know- 
ledge, but something else, falsely so called. 



121 

And some are unhappily accustomed to such 
an abuse of words and understanding, as 
not only to call, but to think, those things 
religion, which are the very reverse of it ; 
and those notions religious knowledge, which 
lead them the farthest from it. 

The sincerity of a true religious principle 
cannot be better known, than by the readi- 
ness with which the thoughts advert to God, 
and the pleasure with which they are em- 
ployed in devout exercises. And though a 
person may not always be so well pleased 
with hearing religious things talked of by 
others, whose different taste, sentiments, or 
manner of expression, may have something 
disagreeable ; yet, if he have no inclination 
to think of them himself, or converse with 
himself about them, he hath great reason 
to suspect that his " heart is not right with 
" God." But, if he frequently and delight- 
fully exercise his mind in divine contem- 
plations, it will not only be a good mark of 
his sincerity, but will habitually dispose it 
for the reception of the best and most useful 



122. 

thoughts, and fit it for the noblest entertain- 
ments. 

Upon the whole, then, it is of as great im- 
portance for a man to take heed what 
thoughts he entertains, as what company he 
keeps ; for they have the same effect upon 
the mind. Bad thoughts are as infectious 
as bad company ; and good thoughts solace, 
instruct, and entertain the mind like good 
company. And this is one great advantage 
of retirement ; that a man may choose what 
company he pleases, from within himself. 

As, in the world, we oftener light into bad 
company than good ; so, in solitude, we are 
oftener troubled with impertinent and un- 
profitable thoughts, than entertained with 
agreeable and useful ones. And a man that 
hath so far lost the command of himself, as 
to lie at the mercy of every foolish or vexing 
thought, is much in the same situation as a 
host, whose house is open to all comers, 
whom, though ever so noisy, rude, and trou- 
blesome, he cannot get rid of: but with 
this difference, that the latter hath some 



123 

recompense for his trouble., the former none 
at all, but is robbed of his peace and quiet 
for nothing. 

Of such vast importance to the peace, as 
well as the improvement of the mind, is the 
right regulation of the thoughts, which will 
be my apology for dwelling so long on this 
branch of the subject : Which I shall con- 
clude, with this one observation more ; that 
it is a very dangerous thing to think, as too 
many are apt to do, that it is a matter of in- 
difference what thoughts they entertain in 
their hearts, since the reason of things con- 
curs with the testimony of the holy scrip- 
tures to assure us, " That the alio wed thought 
" of foolishness is sin/' Prov. xxiv* 9. 



124 



CHAP. XV. 

Concerning the memory. 

XIV. " A man, that knows himself, will 
" have a regard, not only to the manage- 
u ment of his thoughts, but the improvement 
" of his memory." 

The memory is that faculty of the soul, 
which was designed for the storehouse or 
repository of its most useful notions ; where 
they may be laid up in safety, to be pro- 
duced upon proper occasions. 

Now, a thorough self-acquaintance cannot 
be had without a proper regard to this in 
two respects. (1.) Its furniture. (2.) Its 
improvement. 

(1.) A man, that knows himself, will have 
a regard to the furniture of his memory ; 
not to load it with trash and lumber, a set 
of useless notions, or low conceits, which he 



125 

will be ashamed to produce before persons 
of taste and judgment. 

If the retention be bad, do not crowd it 
It is of as ill consequence to overload a weak 
memory, as a weak stomach. And, that it 
may not be cumbered with trash, take heed 
what company you keep, what books you 
read, and what thoughts you favour ; other- 
wise a great deal of useless rubbish may fix: 
there before you are aware, and take up the 
room which ought to be possessed by better 
notions. But let not a valuable thought 
slip from you, though you pursue it with 
much time and pains before you overtake it. 
The regaining and refixing it may be of 
more avail to you than many hours reading. 

What pity is it that men should take 
such immense pains, as some do, to learn 
those things, which, as soon as they become 
wise, they must take as much pains to un- 
learn! A thought that should make us very 
curious and cautious about the proper fur- 
niture of our minds. 

(2.) Self-knowledge will acquaint a man 
with the extent and capacity of his memory, 
and the right way to improve it 



126 

'There is no small art in improving a weak 
memory, so as to turn it to as great an ad- 
vantage as many do theirs, which are much 
stronger. A few short rules to this purpose 
may be no unprofitable digression. 

1. Beware of all kinds of intemperance 
in the indulgence of the appetites and pas- 
sions. Excesses of all kinds do a great in- 
jury to the memory. 

2. If it be weak, do not overload it. 
Charge it only with the most useful and solid 
notions. A small vessel should not be stuffed 
with lumber : But if its freight be precious, 
and judiciously stowed, it may be more va- 
luable than a ship of twice its burden. 

3. Recur to the help of a common place- 
book, according to Mr. Locke's method, 
and review it once a year. But take care ? 
that, by confiding to your minutes or me- 
morial aids, you do not excuse the labour of 
the memory ; which is one disadvantage at- 
tending this method. 

4. Take every opportunity of uttering 
your best thoughts in conversation, when 
the subject will admit it : That will deeply 
imprint them. Hence, the tales which com- 



127 

mon story-tellers relate, they never forget, 
though ever so silly. 

5. Join, to the idea you would remember, 
some other that is more familiar to you, 
which bears some similitude to it, either in 
its nature, or in the sound of the word by 
which it is expressed; or that hath some 
relation to it, either in time or place. And 
then, by recalling this, which is easily re- 
membered, you will (by that concatenation 
or connection of ideas, which Mr. Locke 
takes notice of) draw in that which is thus 
linked or joined with it ; which otherwise 
you might hunt after in vain. This rule is 
of excellent use to help you to remember 
names. 

6. What you are determined to remem- 
ber, think of before you go to sleep at night, 
and the first thing in the morning, when 
the faculties are fresh. And recollect, at 
evening, every thing worth remembering 
the day past. 

7. Think it not enough to furnish this 
store-house of the mind with good thoughts ; 
but lay them up there in order, digested or 



128 

ranged under proper subjects or classes; 
that, whatever subject you have occasion to 
think or talk upon, you may have recourse 
immediately to a good thought, which you 
heretofore laid up there under that subject, 
so that the very mention of the subject may 
bring the thought to hand; by which means 
you will carry a regular common place-book 
in your memory. And it may not be amiss, 
sometimes, to take an inventory of this 
mental furniture, and recollect how many 
good thoughts you have there treasured 
up under such particular subjects, and 
whence you had them. 

Lastly, Nothing helps the memory more 
than often thinking, writing, or talking, on 
those subjects you will remember. But- 
enough of this. 



129 



CHAP. XVI. 

Concerning the mental taste. 

XV. "A man, that knows himself, is sen- 
" sible of, and attentive to, the particular 
" taste of his mind, especially in matters of 
" religion." 

As the late Mr. Howe judiciously ob- 
serves, " there is, beside bare understand- 
u ing and judgment, and diverse from that 
" heavenly gift, which, in the scripture, is 
" called grace, such a thing as gust and re- 
M lish belonging to the mind of man, (and, 
" I doubt not, with all men, if they observe 
" themselves) and which are as unaccount- 
" able, and as various, as the relishes and 
" disgusts of sense. This they only wonder 
" at who understand not themselves, or will 
" consider nobody but themselves. So that 
" it cannot be said, universally, that it is a 

K 



130 

" better judgment, or more grace, that de- 
" termines men the one way or the other ; 
" but somewhat in the temper of their minds 
" distinct from both, which I know not how 
" better to express than by mental taste. 
" And this hath no more of mystery in it, 
" than that there is such a thing belonging 
" to our natures as complacency and dis- - 
cc placency in reference to the objects of 
" the mind. And this, in the kind of it, is 
u as common to men as human nature ; but 
" as much diversified in individuals as men's 
" other inclinations are." 

Now, this different taste in matters re- 
lating to religion, (though it may be some- 
times natural, or what is born with a man, 
yet) generally arises from the difference of 
education and custom. And the true reason 
why some persons have an inveterate disre- 
lish to certain circumstantials of religion, 
though ever so justifiable, and at the same 
time a fixed esteem for others, that are more 
exceptionable, may be no better than what 
I have heard some very honestly profess, 
viz. that the one they have been used to, 



131 

and the other not. As a person, by long 
use and habit, acquires a greater relish for 
coarse and unwholesome food, than the most 
delicate diet ; so a person long habituated 
to a set of phrases, notions, and modes, may, 
by degrees, come to have such a veneration 
and esteem for them, as to despise and con- 
demn others which they have not been 
accustomed to, though perhaps more edify- 
ing and more agreeable to scripture and 
reason. 

This particular taste in matters of religion 
differs very much (as Mr. Howe well ob- 
serves) both from judgment and grace. 

However, it is often mistaken for both. 
When it is mistaken for the former, it leads 
to error ; when mistaken for the latter, to 
censoriousness. 

This different taste of mental objects is 
much the same with that which, with regard 
to the objects of sense, we call fancy : for, 
as one man cannot be said to have a better 
judgment in food than another, purely be* 
cause he likes some kind of meats better 
than he ; so, neither can he be said to have 
k2 



132 

a better judgment in matters of religion, 
purely because he hath a greater fondness 
for some particular doctrines and forms. 

But though this mental taste be not the 
same as the judgment, yet it often draws 
the judgment to it, and sometimes very 
much perverts it. 

This appears in nothing more evidently 
than in the judgment people pass upon the 
sermons they hear. Some are best pleased 
with those discourses that are pathetic and 
warming, others with what is more solid and 
rational, and others with the sublime and 
mystical. Nothing can be too plain for the 
taste of some, or too refined for that of 
others. Some are for having the address 
only to their reason and understanding, 
others only to their affections and passions, 
and others to their experience and con- 
sciences. And every hearer or reader is apt 
to judge according to his particular taste, 
and to esteem him the best preacher or 
writer who pleases him most ; without ex- 
amining first, his own particular taste, by 
which he judgeth. 



133 

It is natural, indeed, for every one to 
desire to have his own taste pleased ; but it 
is unreasonable in him to set it up as the best, 
and make it a test and standard to others : 
but much more unreasonable to expect, that 
he, who speaks in public, should always 
speak to his taste, which might as reason- 
ably be expected by another of a different 
taste. But it can no more be expected, that 
what is delivered to a multitude of hearers 
should alike suit all their tastes, than that a 
single dish, though prepared with ever so 
much art and exactness, should equally 
please a great variety of appetites ; among 
which there may be some perhaps very nice 
and sickly. 

It is the preacher's duty to adapt his sub- 
jects to the taste of his hearers, as far as 
fidelity and conscience will admit ; because 
it is well known, from reason and experience, 
as well as from the advice and practice of 
the apostle Paul, that this is the best way 
to promote their edification. But if their 
taste be totally vitiated, and incline them 
to take in that which will do them more 



134 

harm than good, and to relish poison more 
than food, the most charitable thing the 
preacher can do in that case is, to endea- 
vour to correct so vicious an appetite, which 
loathes that which is most wholesome, and 
craves that which is pernicious. This, I say, 
it is his duty to attempt in the most gentle 
and prudent manner he can, though he run 
the risk of having his judgment or ortho- 
doxy called into question by them, as it very 
possibly may ; for, commonly, they are the 
most arbitrary and unmerciful judges in thi? 
case, who are the least able to judge. 

There is not, perhaps, a more unaccount- 
able weakness in human nature than this, 
that, with regard to religious matters, our 
animosities are generally greatest where our 
differences are least : they, who come pretty 
near to our standard, but stop short there, 
are more the object of our disgust and cen- 
sure, than they who continue at the greatest 
distance from it ; and it requires the greatest 
knowledge and command of our temper to 
get over this weakness. To whatever secret 
spring in the human mind it may be owing, 



135 

I shall not stay to inquire ; but the thing 
itself is too obvious not to be taken notice 
of. 

Now, we should, all of us, be careful to 
find out and examine our proper taste of 
religious things ; that if it be a false one, 
we may rectify it ; if a bad one, mend it ; 
if a right and good one, strengthen and im- 
prove it. For the mind is capable of a false 
taste, as well as the palate, and comes by it 
the same w r ay, viz. by being long used to 
unnatural relishes, which, by custom, be- 
come grateful. And having found out what 
it is, and examined it by the test of scrip- 
ture, reason, and conscience, if it be not 
very wrong, let us indulge it, and read those 
books that are most suited to it, which, for 
that reason, will be most edifying. But, 
at the same time, let us take care of two 
things ; 1. That it do not bias our judgment, 
and draw us into error. 2. That it do not 
cramp our charity, and lead us to censo- 
riousness. 



136 



CHAP. XVII. 

Of oar great and governing views in life. 

XVI. " Another part of self-knowledge 
" is, to know what are the great ends for 
u which we live." 

We must consider what is the ultimate 
scope we drive at ; the general maxims and 
principles we live by ; or whether we have 
not yet determined our end, and are go- 
verned by no fixed principles, or by such as 
we are ashamed to own. 
4 There are few that live so much at random 
as not to have some main end in eye ; some- 
thing that influences their conduct, and is 
the great object of their pursuit and hope. 
A man cannot live without some leading 
views ; a wise man will always know what 
they are ; whether it is fit he should be led 
by them, or no ; whether they be such as 



137 

his understanding and reason approve, or 
only such as fancy and inclination suggest. 
He will be as much concerned to act with 
reason, as to talk with reason ; as much 
ashamed of a solecism and contradiction in 
his character, as in his conversation. 

Where do our views centre? In this 
world we are in, or in that we are going to ? 
If our hopes and joys centre here, it is a 
mortifying thought, that we are every day 
" departing from our happiness ;" but if they 
are fixed above, it is a joy to think that we 
are every day drawing nearer to the object 
of our highest wishes. 

Is our main care to appear great in the 
eye of man, or good in the eye of God ? If 
the former, we expose ourselves to the pain 
of a perpetual disappointment; for it is 
much, if the envy of men do not rob us of a 
great deal of our just praise, or if our vanity 
will be content with that they allow us. 
But if the latter be our main care ; if our 
chief view is, to be approved of God, we are 
laying up a fund of the most lasting and 
solid satisfactions. Not to say that this is 



138 

the truest way to appear great in the eye of 
men, and to conciliate the esteem of all 
those whose praise is worth our wish. 

" Be this, then, O my soul ! thy wise and 
u steady pursuit ; let this circumscribe and 
" direct thy views ; be this a law to thee, 
" from which account it a sin to depart, 
" whatever disrespect or contempt it may 
" expose thee to from others ; be this the 
" character thou resolvest to live up to, and 
" at all times to maintain, both in public 
" and private, viz. a friend and lover of God ; 
" in whose favour thou centrest all thy pre- 
" sent and future hopes. Carry this view 
" with thee through life, and dare not, in any 
u instance, to act inconsistently with it." 



139 



CHAP. XVIII. 

How to know the true state of our souls ; 
and whether we are fit to die. 

•Lastly, " the most important point of 
" self-knowledge, after all, is, to know the 
4< true state of our souls towards God, and 
H in what condition we are to die." 

These two things are inseparably con- 
nected in their nature, and therefore I put 
them together. The knowledge of the for- 
mer will determine the latter, and is the only 
thing that can determine it ; for no man can 
tell whether he is fit for death, till he is ac- 
quainted with the true state of his own soul. 

This, now, is a matter of such vast mo- 
ment, that it is amazing any considerate 
man, or any one who thinks what it is to die, 
should rest satisfied with an uncertainty 
in it. Let us trace out this important point, 



140 

then, with all possible plainness, and see if 
we cannot come to some satisfaction in it 
upon the most solid principles. 

In order to know, then, whether we are 
fit to die, we must first know, " what it is 
" that fits us for death ?" And the answer 
to this is very natural and easy ; viz. that 
only fits us for death, " that fits us for hap- 
" piness after death." 

This is certain. But the question returns. 
" What is it that fits us for happiness after 
" death ?" 

Now, in answer to this, there is a pre- 
vious question, necessary to be determined, 
viz. " What that happiness is ?" 

It is not a fool's paradise, or a Turkish 
dream of sensitive gratifications. It must 
be a happiness suited to the nature of the 
soul, and what it is capable of enjoying in a 
state of separation from the body. And 
what can that be, but the enjoyment of 
God, the best of beings, and the author of 
ours ? 

The question, then, comes to this, " What 
"is that which fits us for the enjoyment 



141 

" of God, in the future state of separate 
" spirits I" 

And, methinks, we may bring this matter 
to a very sure and short issue, by saying, 
it is " that which makes us like to him 
" now." This only is our proper qualifica- 
tion for the enjoyment of him after death, 
and therefore our only proper preparation 
for death. For, how can they, who are 
unlike to God here, expect to enjoy him 
hereafter? And if they have no just ground 
to hope, that they shall enjoy God in the 
other world, how are they fit to die ? 

So that, the great question, " Am I fit 
■* to die?" resolves itself into this, " Am I 
" like to God?" for it is this only that fits 
me for heaven; and that which fits me for 
heaven is the only thing that fits me for 
death. 

Let this point, then, be well searched into^ 
and examined very deliberately and impart 
tially. 

Most certain it is, that God can take no 
real complacency in any but those that are 
like him ; and it is as certain, that none but 



142 



those that are like him can take pleasure in 
him. But God is a most pure and holy 
being ; a being of infinite love, mercy, and 
patience ; whose righteousness is invariable, 
whose veracity inviolable, and whose wis- 
dom unerring. These are the moral attri- 
butes of the divine Being, in which he 
requires us to imitate him ; the express linea- 
ments of the divine nature, in which all good 
men bear a resemblance to him, and for the 
sake of which only they are the objects of 
his delight : for God can love none but those, 
that bear this impress of his own image on 
their souls. Do we find, then, these visible 
traces of the divine image there ? Can we 
make out our likeness to him in his holiness, 
goodness, mercy, righteousness, truth, and 
wisdom ? If so, it is certain we are capable 
of enjoying him, and are the proper objects 
of his love. By this, we know we are fit to 
die, because, by this, we know we are fit for 
happiness after death. 

Thus, then, if we are faithful to our con- 
sciences, and impartial in the examination 
of our lives and tempers, we may soon come 



n 



143 

to a right determination of this important 
question, " What is the true state of our 
" souls towards God ? and in what condition 
" are we to die ?" Which, as it is the most 
important, so, it is the last instance of self- 
knowledge I shall mention, and, with it, 
close the first part of this subject. 



TREATISE 



ON 



SELF-KNOWLEDGE. 



PART II. 



TREATISE 



ON 



SELF-KNOWLEDGE. 



PART II. 



Showing the great excellency and advan- 
tages of this kind of science. 

Having, in the former part of the subject, 
laid open some of the main branches of 
self-knowledge, or pointed out the principal 
things which a man ought to be acquainted 
with, relating to himself, I am now, reader, 
to lay before you the excellency and useful- 
ness of this kind of knowledge, as an in- 
ducement to labour after it, by a detail of 
the several great advantages which attend 
it, and which shall be recounted in the fol- 
lowing chapters. 

L 2 



148 



CHAP. I. 

Self-knowledge the spring of self-possess ion . 

I. " One great advantage of self-know- 
" ledge is, that it gives a man the truest and 
" most constant self-possession." 

A man, that is endowed with this excel- 
lent knowledge, is calm and easy. 

(1.) Under affronts and defamation. For 
he thinks thus : " I am sure I know myself 
" better than any man can pretend to know 
" me. This calumniator hath, indeed, at 
" this time, missed his mark, and shot his 
" arrows at random ; and it is my comfort, 
« 4 that my conscience acquits me of his 
" angry imputation. However, there are 
" worse crimes which he might more justly 
"j accuse me of, which, though hid from 
i\ him, are known to myself. Let me set 
" about reforming them, lest, if they come 



149 

" to his notice, he should attack me in a 
" more defenceless part, find something to 
" fasten his obloquy, and fix a lasting re- 
" proach upon my character." 

There is a great deal of truth and good 
sense in that common saying and doctrine 
of the Stoics, though they might carry it 
too far, " that it is not things, but thoughts, 
" that disturb and hurt us." Now, as self- 
acquaintance teaches a man the right go- 
vernment of the thoughts (as is shown 
above, part i. chap. 14.), it will help him 
to expel all anxious, tormenting, and fruitless 
thoughts, and retain the most quieting and 
useful ones, and so keep all easy within. 
Let a man but try the experiment, and he 
will find that a little resolution will make the 
greatest part of the difficulty vanish. 

(2.) Self-knowledge will be a good ballast 
to the mind under any accidental hurry or 
disorder of the passions. It curbs their im- 
petuosity, puts the reins into the hands of 
reason, quells the rising storm ere it make 
shipwreck of the conscience, and teaches a 
man to " leave off contention before it be 



150 

u meddled with." Frov. xvii. 14, It being 
much safer to keep the lion chained, than 
to encounter it in its full strength and fury. 
And thus will a wise man. for his own 
peace, deal with the passions of others, as 
well as his own. 

Self-knowledge, as it acquaints a man 
with his weaknesses and worse qualities, will 
be his guard against them, and a happy- 
counterbalance to the faults and excesses of 
his natural temper. 

(3.) It will keep the mind sedate and calm 
under the surprise of bad news, or afflicting 
providences. 

" For am I not a creature of God ? and 
" my life and my comforts, are they not 
" wholly at his dispose, from whom I have 
" received them, and by whose favour I 
" have so long enjoyed them, and by whose 
" mercy and goodness I have still so many 
" left me ?" 

" A heathen can teach me, under such 
" losses of friends, or estate, or any com- 
" fort, to direct my eyes to the hand of 
" God, by whom it was lent me, and is now 



151 

'* recalled, that I ought not to say, it is lost, 
" but restored ; and though I be injuriously 
" deprived of it, still the hand of God is to 
" be acknowledged ; for, what is it to me 
" by what means he that gave me that bless- 
" ing takes it from me again ?"— Epict. 
Enchirid. cap. 15. 

He, that rightly knows himself, will live 
every day dependant on the Divine Author 
of his mercies, for the continuance and en- 
joyment of them ; and will learn, from a 
higher authority than that of a heathen mo- 
ralist, that he hath nothing that he can pro- 
perly call his own, or ought to depend upon 
as such ; that he is but a steward employed 
to dispense the good things he possesses, 
according to the direction of his Lord, at 
whose pleasure he holds them, and to whom 
he should be ready, at any time, cheerfully 
to resign them. Luke xvi. 1. 

(4.) Self-knowledge will help a man to 
preserve an equanimity and self-possession 
under all the various scenes of adversity and 
prosperity. 

Both have their temptations: Tosome, the 



152 

temptations of prosperity are the greatest; 
to others, those of adversity. Self-know- 
ledge shows a man which of these are great- 
est to him; and, at the apprehension of 
them, teaches him to arm himself accord- 
ingly, that nothing may deprive him of 
his constancy and self-possession, or lead 
him to act unbecoming the man or the Chris- 
tian. 

We commonly say, " No one knows what 
" he can bear, till he is tried." And many 
persons verify the observation, by bearing 
evils much better than they feared they 
should. Nay, the apprehension of an ap- 
proaching evil often gives a man a greater 
pain than the evil itself. This is owing to 
inexperience and self-ignorance. 

A man, that knows himself his own 
strength and weakness, is not so subject as 
others to the melancholy presages of the 
imagination ; and, whenever they intrude, 
he makes no other use of them than to take 
the warning, collect himself, and prepare 
for the coming evil, leaving the degree, 
duration, and the issue of it, with him, who 



153 

is the sovereign Disposer of all events, in a 
quiet dependence on his power, wisdom, and 
goodness. 

Such self-possession is one great eSect 
and advantage of self-knowledge. 



154 



CHAP. II. 

Self-knowledge leads to a wise and steady 
conduct. 

II. « As self-knowledge will keep a man 
" calm and equal in his temper, so, it will 
" make him wise and cautious in his con- 
" duct." 

A precipitant and rash conduct is ever the 
effect of a confused and irregular hurry of 
the thoughts. So that, when, by the in- 
fluence of self-knowledge, the thoughts be- 
come cool, sedate, and rational, the conduct 
will be so too. It will give a man that even, 
steady, uniform behaviour in the manage- 
ment of his affairs, that is so necessary for 
the dispatch of business, and prevent many 
disappointments and troubles, which arise 
from the unsuccessful execution of immature 
or ill-judged projects. 



155 

In short, most of the troubles which men 
meet with in the world may be traced up to 
this source, and resolved into self-ignorance, 
We may complain of Providence, and com- 
plain of men ; but the fault, if we examine it, 
will commonly be found to be our own, 
Our imprudence, which arises from self- 
ignorance, either brings our troubles upon 
us, or increases them. Want of temper and 
conduct will make any affliction double. 

What a long train of difficulties do some- 
times proceed from one wrong step in our 
conduct, which self-ignorance, or inconsi- 
deration, betrayed us into ! And every evil 
that befals us, in consequence of that, we are 
to charge upon ourselves. 



166 



CHAP. HI. 

Humility, the effect of self-knowledge. 

III. " a rue self-knowledge always pro- 
" duces humility." 

Pride is ever the offspring of self-igno- 
rance. The reason men are vain and self- 
sufficient is, because they do not know their 
own failings ; and the reason they are not 
better acquainted with them is, because 
they hate self-inspection. Let a man but 
turn his eyes within, scrutinize himself, and 
study his own heart, and he will soon see 
enough to make him humble. " Behold I 
" am vile," (Job xl. 4,) is the language only 
of self-knowledge. 

Whence is it that young people are gene- 
rally so vain, self-sufficient, and assured, but 
because they have taken no time or pains 
to cultivate a self-acquaintarce? And why 



157 

does pride and stiffness appear so often in 
advanced age, but because men grow old in 
self-ignorance ? A moderate degree of self- 
knowledge would cure an inordinate degree 
of self-complacency. 

Humility is not more necessary to salva- 
tion, than self-knowledge is to humility. 

And especially would it prevent that bad 
disposition which is too apt to steal upon 
and infect some of the best human minds, 
especially those who aim at singular and 
exalted degrees of piety, viz. a religious 
vanity, or spiritual pride ; which, without 
a great deal of self-knowledge and self- 
attention, will gradually insinuate into the 
heart, taint the mind, and sophisticate our 
virtues, before we are aware; and, in propor- 
tion to its prevalence, make the Christian 
temper degenerate into the Pharisaical. 

w Might 1 be allowed to ehuse my own 
" lot, I should think it much more eligible 
" to want my spiritual comforts, than to 
" abound in these, at the expence of my 
" humility. No ; let a penitent and contrite 
u spirit be always my portion ; and may I 



158 

" ever so be the favourite of Heaven, as 
" never to forget that I am chief of sin- 
" ners. Knowledge in the sublime and 
" glorious mysteries of the Christian faith, 
" and ravishing contemplations of God and 
" a future state, are most desirable advan- 
" tages ; but still I prefer charity, which 
" edifieth, before the highest intellectual 
" perfections of that knowledge which puff- 
" eth up. 1 Cor. viii. 1 . Those spiritual 
" advantages are certainly best for us, which 
" increase our modesty, and awaken our 
( * caution, and dispose us to suspect and 
" deny ourselves. The highest in God's 
" esteem are meanest in their own ; and 
" their excellency consists in the meekness 
u and truth, not in the pomp and ostentation 
u of piety, which affects to be seen and ad- 
" mired of men." — Stanhope's Tho. & 
Kempis, book 2. ch. 11. 



159 



CHAP. IV. 

Charity i another effect of self -knowledge, 

IV. " Self-knowledge greatly promotes 
c{ a spirit of meekness and charity." 

The more a man is acquainted with his 
own failings, the more is he disposed to make 
allowances for those of others, The know- 
ledge he hath of himself will incline him to 
be as severe in his animadversions on his 
own conduct, as he is on that of others, and 
as candid to their faults as he is to his own. 

There is an uncommon beauty, force, and 
propriety, in that caution which our Sa- 
viour gives us, Mat. vii. 3—5. " And why 
" beholdest thou the mote that is in thy bro- 
u ther's eye, but considerest not the beam 
" that is in thine own eye ? Or how wilt 
" thou say to thy brother, Let me pull out 
" the mote out of thine eye, and behold a 



160 

" beam is in thine own eye ? Thou hypo- 
" erite, first cast the beam out of thine own 
K eye, and then shalt thou see clearly to cast 
" out the mote out of thy brother's eye." 
In which words these four things are plainly 
intimated, 1. That some are much more 
quick-sighted to discern the faults and ble- 
mishes of others than their own ; can spy 
a mote in another's eye, sooner than a beam 
in their own. And commonly it is so ; they 
who are most quick-sighted to the faults of 
others, are most blind to their own. 2. That 
they are often the most forward and offi- 
cious to correct and cure the foibles of 
others, who are most unfit for it. The beam 
in their own eye makes them altogether 
unfit to pull out the mote from their bro- 
ther's. A man, half blind himself, should 
never set up for an oculist. 3. That they 
who are inclined to deal in censure should 
always begin at home. 4. Great censorious- 
ness is great hypocrisy. " Thou hypocrite," 
&e. all this is nothing but the effect of woe- 
ful self-ignorance. 
This common failing of the human nature 



lol 

the heathens were very sensible of, and re- 
presented it in the following manner. Every 
man, say they, carries a wallet, or two bags 
with him ; the one hanging before him, the 
other behind him : in that before, he puts 
the faults of others; into that behind, his 
own ; by which means, he never sees his 
own failings, whilst he has those of others 
always before his eyes. 

But self-knowledge, now, helps us to turn 
this wallet, and place that, w^hich hath our 
own faults, before our eyes, and that, w^hich 
hath in it those of others, behind our back. 
A very necessary regulation this, if we 
would behold our own faults in the same 
light in which they do ; for we must not 
expect that others will be as blind to our 
foibles as we ourselves are ; they will carry 
them before their eyes, whether we do or 
no. And to imagine that the world takes 
no notice of them, because we do not, is 
just as wise as to fancy that others do not 
see us, because we shut our eyes* 



162 



CHAP. V. 

Moderation, the effect of self-knowledge. 

V. " Another genuine offspring of self- 
" knowledge, is moderation." 

This, indeed, can hardly be conceived to 
be separate from that meekness and charity 
before-mentioned ; but I chuse to give it a 
distinct mention, because I consider it under 
a different view and operation, viz. as that 
which guards and influences our spirits in 
all matters of debate and controversy. 

Moderation is a great and important 
Christian virtue, very different from that 
bad quality of the mind under w^hich it is 
often misrepresented and disguised, viz. 
lukewarmness and indifference about the 
truth. The former is very consistent with a 
regular and well-corrected zeal ; the latter 
consists in the total want of it : the former 



163 

Is sensible of, and endeavours, with peace 
and prudence, to maintain the dignity and 
importance of divine doctrines ; the latter 
hath no manner of concern about them : 
the one feels the secret influences of them : 
the other is quite a stranger to their power 
and efficacy: the one laments, in secret, 
the sad decay of vital religion ; the other 
is an instance of it. In short, the one pro- 
ceeds from true knowledge, the other from 
great ignorance ; the one is a good mark of 
sincerity, the other a certain sign of hypo- 
crisy. And to confound two things toge- 
ther, which are so essentially different, can 
be the effect of nothing but great ignorance, 
or inconsideration, or an overheated, injudi- 
cious zeal. 

A self-knowing man can easily distinguish 
between these two. And the knowledge 
which he has of human nature in general, 
from a thoroi*gh contemplation of his own 
in particular, shows him the necessity of 
preserving a medium (as in every thing else, 
so especially) between the two extremes of 
a bigotted zeal on the one hand, and an 
M 2 



164 

indolent lukewarmness on the other. As he 
will not look upon every thing to be worth 
contending for, so, he will look upon nothing 
worth losing his temper for in the conten- 
tion ; because, though the truth be of ever 
so great importance, nothing can be of a 
greater disservice to it, or make a man more 
incapable of defending it, than intemperate 
heat and passion, whereby he injures abd 
betrays the cause he is over anxious to main- 
tain. " The wrath of man worketh not the 
" righteousness of God." James i. 20. 

Self-knowledge heals our animosities, and 
greatly cools our debates about matters of 
dark and doubtful speculation. One who 
knows himself, sets too great a value upon 
his time and temper, to plunge rashly into 
those vain and fruitless controversies, in 
which one of them is sure to be lost, and 
the other in great danger of being so, espe- 
cially when a man of bad temper, and bad 
principles, is the opponent ; who aims rather 
to silence his adversary with overbearing 
confidence, dark unmeaning language, au- 
thoritative airs, and hard words, than con- 



165 

vince him with solid argument; and who 
plainly contends, not for truth, but for vic- 
tory. Little good can be done to the best 
cause in such a circumstance. And a wise 
and moderate man, who knows human na- 
ture, and knows himself, will rather give his 
antagonist the pleasure of an imaginary 
triumph, than engage in so unequal a com- 
bat. 

An eagerness and zeal for dispute on 
every subject, and with every one, shows 
great self-sufficiency, that never-failing sign 
of great self-ignorance. And true modera- 
tion, which consists in an indifference about 
little things, and in a prudent and w^ell-pro- 
portioned zeal about things of importance, 
can proceed from nothing but true know- 
ledge, w r hich has its foundation in self-ac- 
quaintance. 



166 



CHAP. VI. 

Self-knowledge improves the judgment. 

VI. " Another great advantage of being 
" well acquainted with ourselves is, that it 
" helps us to form a better judgment of 
" other things." 

Self-knowledge, indeed, does not enlarge 
or increase our natural capacities, but it 
guides and regulates them ; leads us to the 
right use and application of them ; and re- 
moves a great many things which obstruct 
the due exercise of them, as pride, preju- 
dice and passion, &c. which oftentimes so 
miserably pervert the rational powers. 

He that hath taken a just measure of him- 
self, is thereby better able to judge of other 
things. 

(1.) He knows how to judge of men and 
human nature better. For human nature. 



167 

setting aside the difference of natural genius, 
and the improvements of education and reli- 
gion, is pretty much the same in all. There 
are the same passions and appetites, the 
same natural infirmities and inclinations in 
all, though some are more predominant and 
distinguishable in some than they are in 
others. So that, if a man be but well ac- 
quainted with his own, this, together with a 
very little observation on the ways of men, 
will soon discover to him those of others, 
and show him very impartially the particu- 
lar failings and excellencies of men, and help 
him to form a much truer sentiment of 
them, than if he were to judge only by 
their exterior, the appearance they make 
in the eye of the world (than which some- 
times nothing shows them in a falser light,) 
or by popular opinions and prejudices. 

(2.) Self-knowledge will teach us to judge 
rightly of facts, as well as men. It will ex- 
hibit things to the mind in their proper light 
and true colours, without those false glosses 
and appearances which fancy throws upon 
them, or in which the imagination often paints 



168 

them. It will teach us to judge, not with 
the imagination, but with the understand- 
ing ; and will set a guard upon the former, 
which so often represents things in wrong 
views, and gives the mind false impressions 
of them. See part i. chap. iv, 

(3.) It helps us to estimate the true value 
of all worldly good things. It rectifies our 
notions of them, and lessens that enormous 
esteem we are apt to have for them. For, 
when a man knows himself, and his true 
interests, he will see how far, and in what 
degree, these things are suitable to him, and 
subservient to his good ; and how far they 
are unsuitable, ensnaring, and pernicious. 
This, and not the common opinion of the 
w^orld, w r ill be his rule of judging concerning 
them. By this, he will see quite through 
them ; See what they really are at bottom, 
and how far a wise man ought to desire 
them. The reason why men value them so 
extravagantly is, because they take a super- 
ficial view of them, and only look upon their 
outside, where they are most showy and 
inviting. Were they to look within them, 



169 

consider their intrinsic worth, their ordinary 
effects, their tendency, and their end, they 
would not be so apt to overvalue them. 
And a man, that has learned to see through 
himself, can easily see through these. 



170 



CHAP. VII. 

Self -knowledge directs to the proper exer- 
cise of self ^denial. 

VII. " A man, that knows himself, best 
" knows how, and wherein, he ought to deny 
" himself." 

The great duty of self-denial, which our 
Saviour so expressly requires of all his fol- 
lowers (plain and necessary as it is) has 
been much mistaken and abused, and that 
not only by the church of Rome, in their 
doctrines of penance, fasts and pilgrimages, 
but by some protestant Christians, in the 
instances of voluntary abstinence, and unne- 
cessary austerities ; whence they are some- 
times apt to be too censorious against those 
who indulge themselves in the use of those 
indifferent things, which they make it a point 
of conscience to abstain from. Whereas, 



171 

would they confine their exercise of self- 
denial to the plain and important points of 
Christian practice, devoutly performing the 
necessary duties they are most averse to, 
and resolutely avoiding the known sins they 
are most inclined to, under the direction of 
scripture, they would soon become more 
solid, judicious, and exemplary Christians : 
And did they know themselves, they would 
easily see, that herein there is occasion and 
scope enough for self-denial, and that to a 
degree of greater severity and difficulty than 
there is in those little corporeal abstinences 
and mortifications they enjoin themselves. 

(1.) Self-knowiedge will direct us to the 
necessary exercises of self-denial, with re- 
gard to the duties our tempers are most 
averse to. 

There is no one, but, at sometimes, finds 
a great backwardness and indisposition to 
some duties, which he knows to be season- 
able and necessary. This then, is a proper 
occasion for self-discipline. For to indulge 
this indisposition is very dangerous, and 
leads to an habitual neglect of known duty ; 



172 

and to resist and oppose it, and prepare for 
a diligent and faithful discharge of the duty, 
notwithstanding the many pleas and excuses 
that carnal disposition may urge for the 
neglect of it, this requires no small pains 
and self-denial, and yet is very necessary to 
the peace of conscience. 

And, for our encouragement to this peace 
of self-denial, we need only remember, that 
the difficulty of the duty, or our unfitness 
for it, will, upon the trial, be found to be 
much less than we apprehend ; and the plea- 
sure of reflecting, that we have discharged 
our consciences, and given a fresh testimony 
of our uprightness, will more than compen- 
sate the pains and difficulty we found therein. 
And the oftener these criminal propensions 
to the wilful neglect of duty are opposed 
and overcome, the seldomer will they re- 
turn, or the weaker will they grow, till at 
last by divine grace, they will be wholly 
vanquished, and, in the room of them, will 
succeed an habitual " readiness to every 
" good work," Tit. iii. 1. and a very sensible 
delight therein ; a much happier effect than 



173 

can be expected from the severest exercises 
of self-denial in the instances before men- 
tioned. 

(2.) A man that knows himself, will see 
an equal necessity for self-denial, in order 
to check and controul his inclinations to 
sinful actions ; to subue the rebel within ; 
to resist the solicitations of sense and appe- 
tite ; to summon all his wisdom to avoid the 
occasions and temptations to sin, and all 
his strength to oppose it. 

All this (especially if it be a favourite or 
a constitutional iniquity) will cost a man 
pains and mortification enough; for in- 
stance, the subduing a violent passion, or 
taming a sensual inclination, or forgiving 
an apparent injury and affront. It is evi- 
dent such a self-conquest can never be 
attained without much self-knowledge and 
self-denial. 

And that self-denial, that is exercised this 
way, as it will be a better evidence of our 
sincerity, so it will be more helpful and or* 
namental to the interests of religion, than 
the greatest zeal in those particular duties 



174 

which are more suitable to our natural tem- 
pers, or than the greatest austerities in some 
particular instances of mortification, which 
are not so necessary, and perhaps not so 
difficult or disagreeable to us as this. 

To what amazing heights of piety may 
some be thought to mount, (raised on the 
wings of a flaming zeal, and distinguished 
by uncommon preciseness and severity about 
little things) who all the while, perhaps, 
cannot govern one passion, and appear yet 
ignorant of, and slaves to, their darling ini- 
quity! Through an ignorance of them- 
selves, they misapply their zeal, and misplace 
their self-denial, and, by that means, ble- 
mish their characters with a visible incon- 
sistency. 



1 75 



CHAP. VIII. 

Self-knowledge promotes our usefulness in 
the world. 

VIII. " Ihe more we know of ourselves, 
" the more useful we are like to be in those 
" stations of life in which Providence hath 
" fixed us." 

When we know our proper talents and 
capacities, we know in what manner we are 
capable of being useful ; and the considera- 
tion of our characters and relations in life 
w r ill direct us to the proper application of 
those talents ; show us to what ends they 
were given us, and to what purposes they 
ought to be cultivated and improved. 

It is a sad thing to observe, how misera- 
bly some men debase and prostitute their 
capacities. Those gifts and indulgences of 
nature, by which they outshine many others, 



176 

and by which they are capable of doing real 
service to the cause of virtue and religion, 
and of being eminently useful to mankind, 
they either entirely neglect, or shamefully 
abuse, to the dishonour of God, and the 
prejudice of their fellow-creatures, by en- 
couraging and emboldening them in the 
ways of vice and vanity. For the false glare 
of a profane wit will sometimes make such 
strong impressions on a weak unsettled 
mind, as to overbear the principles of rea- 
son and wisdom, and give it too favourable 
sentiments of what it before abhorred ; 
whereas, the same force and sprightliness of 
genius would have been very happily and 
usefully employed in putting sin out of 
countenance, and in rallying the follies, 
and exposing the inconsistencies, of a vi- 
cious and profligate character. 

When a man once knows where his 
strength lies, wherein he excels, or is capable 
of excelling, how far his influence extends, 
and in what station of life providence hath 
fixed him, and the duties of that station, 
he then knows what talents he ought to 



177 

cultivate, in what manner, and to what ob- 
jects they are to be particularly directed 
and applied, in order to shine in that station, 
and be useful in it. This will keep him 
even and steady in his pursuits and views, 
consistent with himself, uniform in his con- 
duct, and useful to mankind ; and will pre- 
vent his shooting at a wrong mark, or miss- 
ing the right mark he aims at, as thousands 
do for want of this necessary branch of self- 
knowledge.— See Part I. Chap. V. 



178 



CHAP. IX. 

Self-knowledge leads to a decorum and con- 
sistency of character, 

IX. " A man, that knows himself, knows 
" how to act with discretion and dignity 
" in every station and character." 

Almost all the ridicule we see in the world 
takes its rise from self-ignorance. And to 
this, mankind, by common assent, ascribe it, 
when they say of a person, that acts out of 
character, he does not know himself. Affec- 
tation is the spring of all ridicule, and self- 
ignorance the true source of affectation. 
A man, that does not know his proper cha- 
racter, nor what becomes it, cannot act suit- 
ably to it. He will often affect a character 
which does not belong to him ; and will 
either act above or beneath himself, which 
will make him equally contemptible in the 
eyes of them that know him. 



179 

A man of superior rank and character, 
that knows himself, knows that he is but a 
man ; subject to the same sicknesses, frail- 
ties, diappointments, pains, passions, and 
sorrows, as other men ; that true honour lies 
in those things in which it is possible for the 
meanest peasant to exceed him, and there- 
fore he will not be vainly arrogant. He 
knows that they are only transitory and ac- 
cidental things that set him above the rest 
of mankind ; that he will soon be upon a 
level with them ; and therefore learns to 
condescend : and there is a dignity in this 
condescension ; it does not sink, but exalts 
his reputation and character. 

A man of inferior rank, that knows him- 
self, knows how to be content, quiet, and 
thankful in his lower sphere. As he has not 
an extravagant veneration and esteem for 
those external things which raise one man's 
circumstances so much above another's, so 
he does not look upon himself as the worse 
or less valuable man for not having them ; 
much less does he envy them that have 
them. As he has not their advantages, so 
n 2 



180 

neither has he their temptations ; he is in 
that state of life, which the great Arbiter 
and Disposer of all things hath allotted him, 
and he is satisfied ; but as a deference is 
owing to external superiority, he knows 
how to pay a proper respect to those that 
are above him, without that abject and ser- 
vile cringing, which discovers an inordinate 
esteem for their condition. As he does not 
over-esteem them for those little accidental 
advantages in which they excel him, so nei- 
ther does he over-value himself for those 
things in which he excels others. 

Were hearers to know themselves, they 
would not take upon them to dictate to their 
preachers, or teach their ministers how to 
teach them (which, as St. Austin observes, 
is the same thing as if a patient, when he 
sends for a physician, should prescribe to 
him what he would have him prescribe) ; 
but, if they happen to hear something not 
quite agreeable to their former sentiments, 
would betake themselves more diligently to 
the study of their Bibles, to know " whe- 
" ther those things were so." Acts, xvii. 11. 



181 

And were ministers to know themselves, 
they would know the nature and duty of 
their office, and the wants and infirmities 
of their hearers better, than to domineer over 
their faith, or shoot over their heads, and 
seek their own popularity rather than their 
benefit. They would be more solicitous 
for their edification, than their approbation ; 
and like, a faithful physician, would ear- 
nestly intend and endeavour their good, 
though it be in a way they may not like ; 
and rather risk their own characters with 
weak and captious men, than " withhold 
" any thing that is needful for them," or be 
unfaithful to God and their own consciences. 
The most palatable food is not always the 
most wholesome. Patients must not expect 
to be always pleased, nor physicians to be 
always applauded. 



182 



CHAP.X. 

Piety, the effect of self -knowledge. 

X. " Self-knowledge tends greatly to 
" cultivate a spirit of true piety." 

Ignorance is so far from being the mo- 
ther of devotion, that nothing is more de- 
structive to it And of all ignorance none 
is a greater bane to it than self-ignorance. 
This, indeed, is very consistent with super- 
stition, bigotry, and enthusiasm, those com- 
mon counterfeits of piety, which, by weak 
and credulous minds, are often mistaken for 
it. But true piety and real devotion can 
only spring from a just knowledge of God 
and ourselves ; and the relation we stand in 
to him, and the dependence we have upon 
him. For, when we consider ourselves as 
the creatures of God, whom he made for 
his honour ; and as creatures incapable of 



183 

any happiness, but what results from his 
favour ; and as entirely and continually de- 
pendent upon him for every thing we have 
and hope for ; and whilst we bear this 
thought in our minds, what can induce or 
prompt us more to love, and to fear, and 
trust him, as our God, our father, and al 
sufficient friend and helper ? 



184 



CHAP. XL 

Self-knowledge teaches us rightly to perform 
the duties of religion. 

XI. " Self-knowledge will be a good 
" help and direction to us in many of our 
" religious duties and Christian exercises.'' 
Particularly, 

(i.) In the duty of prayer; both as to 
the matter and the mode. He, that rightly 
knows himself, will be very sensible of his 
spiritual wants, and he that is well acquaint- 
ed with his spiritual wants, will not be at a 
loss w T hat to pray for. " Our hearts would 
" be the best prayer-books, if we were skil- 
" ful in reading them. Why do men pray, 
" and call for prayers, when they come to 
" die ? but that they begin a little better to 
" know themselves. And were they now 
" but to hear the voice of God and con- 



185 

" science, they would not remain speechless. 
a But they, that are born deaf, are always 
" dumb." — Baxter. 

Again, self-knowledge will teach us to 
pray, not only with fluency, but fervency ; 
will help us to keep the heart, as well as 
order our speech, before God ; and so pro- 
mote the grace as well as gift of prayer. 
Did we but seriously consider what we are, 
and what we are about ; whom we pray to, 
and what we pray for ; it is impossible we 
should be so dead, spiritless, and formal in 
this duty as we too often are. The very 
thought would inspire us with life, and faith, 
and fervour. 

(2.) Self-knowledge will be very helpful 
to us in the duty of thanksgiving : As it 
makes us mindful of the mercies we receive ; 
the suitableness and the seasonableness of 
them. A self-knowing man considers what 
he hath, as well as what he wants ; is at once 
sensible, both of the value of his mercies, 
and his unworthiness of them : And this is 
what makes him thankful. For this reason 
it is, that one Christian's heart even melts 



186 

with gratitude for those very mercies, which 
others disesteem and depreciate, and per- 
haps despise, because they have not what 
they think greater. But a man, that knows 
himself, knows that he deserves nothing, 
and therefore is thankful for every thing. 
For thankfulness as necessarily flows from 
humility, as humility does from self-ac- 
quaintance. 

(3.) In the duties of reading and hearing 
the word of God, self-knowledge is of ex- 
cellent use, to enable us to understand and 
apply that which we read or hear. Did we 
understand our hearts better, we should un- 
derstand the word of God better, for that 
speaks to the heart, A man, that is ac- 
quainted with his heart, easily sees how it 
penetrates, and explores, searches, and lays 
open| its most inward parts. He feels what 
he reads ; and finds that a quickening spirit, 
which, to a self-ignorant man, is but a dead 
letter. 

Moreover, this self-acquaintance teaches 
a man to apply what he reads and hears of 
the word of God: he sees the pertinence, 



187 

congruity, and suitableness of it to his own 
case ; and lays it up faithfully in the store- 
room of his mind, to be digested and im- 
proved by his after-thoughts. And it is by 
this art of aptly applying scripture, and 
urging the most suitable instructions and 
admonitions of it home upon our con- 
sciences, that we receive the greatest benefit 
by it. 

(4.) Nothing is of more eminent service 
in the great duty of meditation, especially 
in that part of it which consists in heart- 
converse. A man, who is unacquainted 
with himself, is as unfit to converse with his 
heart, as he is with a stranger he never saw, 
and whose taste and temper he is altogether 
unacquainted with : he knows not how to get 
his thoughts about him ; and When hie has, 
he knows not how to range and fix them, 
and hath no more the command of them 5 
than a general has of a wild undisciplined 
army, that has been never exercised or ac- 
customed to obedience and order. But one 
who hath made it the study of his life to 
be acquainted with himself, is soon disposed 



188 

to enter into a free and familiar converse 
with his own heart ; and in such a self-con- 
ference improves more in true wisdom, and 
acquires more useful and substantial know- 
ledge, than he could do from the most po- 
lite and refined conversation in the world. 
Of such excellent use is self-knowledge in 
all the duties of piety and devotion. 



189 



CHAP. XII. 

Self-knowledge, the best preparation for 
death. 

XII. " Self-knowledge will be an ha- 
" bitual preparation for death, and a con- 
" stant guard against the surprise of it," 
because it fixes and settles our hopes of fu- 
ture happiness. That which makes the 
thoughts of death so terrifying to the soul, 
is its utter uncertainty what will become of 
it after death. Were this uncertainty but 
removed, a thousand things would reconcile 
us to the thoughts of dying. 

" Distrust and darkness of a future state, 

" Is that which makes mankind to dread their fate : 

" Dying is nothing ; but 'tis this we fear, 

" To be we know not what, we know not where." 

Now, self-knowledge, in a good degree^ 
removes this uncertainty ; for, as the word 



190 

of God hath revealed the certainty of a fu- 
ture state of happiness, which good men 
shall enter upon after death, and plainly- 
described the requisite qualifications for it ; 
when a good man, by a long and laborious 
self-acquaintance, comes distinctly to discern 
those qualifications in himself, his hopes 
of heaven soon raise him above the fears of 
death ; and though he may not be able to 
form any clear or distinct conception of the 
nature of that happiness, yet, in general, he 
is assured that it will be a most exquisite and 
satisfying one, and will contain in it every 
thing necessary to make it complete, because 
it will come immediately from God himself. 
Whereas, they, who are ignorant what they 
are, must necessarily be ignorant what they 
shall be. A man, that is all darkness within, 
can have but a dark prospect forward. 

O ! what would we not give for a solid hope 
in death ! Reader ! wouldst thou have it, 
know God, and know thyself. 



TREATISE 



SELF-KNOWLEDGE. 



PART III. 



TREATISE 



ON 



SELF-KNOWLEDGE. 



PART III. 



Skewing how self-kno wleclge is to be attained, 

i 1 ROM what hath been said under the two 
former parts of the subject, self-knowledge 
appears to be in itself so excellent, and its 
effects so extensively useful and conducive 
to the happiness of human kind, that no- 
thing need further be added by way of mo- 
tive or inducement to excite us to make it 
the great object of our study and pursuit. 
If we regard our present peace, satisfaction, 
and usefulness, or our future and everlasting 
interests, we shall certainly value and pro- 
secute this knowledge above all others, as 
o 



194 

what will be most ornamental to our cha- 
racters, and beneficial to our interest, in 
every state of life, and abundantly recom- 
pense all our labour. 

Were there need of any further motives 
to excite us to this, I might lay open the 
many dreadful effects of self-ignorance, and 
show how plainly it appears to be the ori- 
ginal spring of all the follies and incongrui- 
ties we see in the characters of men, and of 
most of the mortifications and miseries they 
meet with here. This would soon appear, 
by only mentioning the reverse of those ad- 
vantages before specified, which naturally 
attend self-knowledge : for what is it, but a 
want of self-knowledge and self-govern- 
ment, that makes us so unsettled and volatile 
in our dispositions ? so subject to transport 
and excess of passions in the varying scenes 
of life ? so rash and unguarded in our con- 
duct ? so vain and self-sufficient ? so cen- 
sorious and malignant? so eager and confi- 
dent ? so little useful in the world, to what 
we might be? so inconsistent with our- 
selves ? so mistaken in our notions of true 



195 

religion ? so generally indisposed to, or un- 
engaged in, the holy exercises of it ? and, 
finally, so unfit for death, and so afraid of 
dying ? I say, to what is all this owing, but 
self-ignorance ? the first and fruitful source 
of all this long train of evils. And, indeed, 
there is scarce any, but what may be traced 
up to it. In short, it brutifies man, to be 
ignorant of himself. " Man that is in ho- 
" nour, and understandeth not (himself es- 
" pecially), is as the beasts which perish." 
Psalm xlix. 20. 

" Come home then, O my wandering, 
" self-neglecting soul ! lose not thyself in a 
" wilderness or tumult of impertinent, vain, 
" distracting things. Thy work is nearer 
" thee : the country thou shouldst first sur- 
" vey and travel is within thee ; from which 
" thou must pass to that above thee ; when, 
" by losing thyself in this without thee, thou 
" wilt find thyself, before thou art aware, 
" in that below thee. Let the eyes of fools 
" be in the corners of the earth ; leave it to 
" men beside themselves, to live as without 
" themselves ; do thou keep at home, and 
o2 



196 

" mind thine own business ; survey thyself, 
u thine own make and nature, and thou wilt 
" find full employ for all thy most active 
" thoughts. But, dost thou delight in the 
" mysteries of nature ? consider well the 
" mystery of thy own. The compendium 
" of all thou studiest is near thee, even 
" within thee ; thyself being the epitome 
** of the world. If either necessity or duty, 
" nature or grace, reason or faith, internal 
" inducements, external impulses, or eternal 
" motives, might determine the subject of 
" thy study and contemplation, thou wouldst 
" call home thy distracted thoughts, and 
" employ them more on thyself and thy 
" God."— Baxter's Mischief of Self -igno- 
rance. 

Now, then, let us resolve, that, henceforth, 
the study of ouselyes shall be the business 
of our lives ; that, by the blessing of God, 
we may arrive at such a degree of self-know- 
ledge, as may secure to us the excellent be- 
nefits before mentioned. To which end we 
would do well to attend diligently to the 
rules laid down in the following chapters. 



197 



CHAP. I. 

Self-examination necessary to self-know- 
ledge. 

I. " The first thing necessary to self-know- 
" ledge is, self-inspection." 

We must often look into our hearts, if we 
would know them. They are very deceit- 
ful; more so than any man can think, till 
he has searched, and tried, and watched 
them. We may meet with frauds and faith- 
less dealings from men ; but, after all, our 
own hearts are the greatest cheats, and 
there are none we are in greater danger 
from than ourselves. We must first suspect 
ourselves, and then examine ourselves, then 
watch ourselves, if we expect ever to know 
ourselves. How is it possible there should 
be any self-acquaintance without self-con- 
verse ? 

Were a man to accustom himself to such 



198 

self-employment, he need not live " till 
" thirty before he suspects himself a fool, 
" or till forty before he knows it." — Night 
Thoughts, Part I. 

Men could never be so bad as they are, 
if they did but take a proper care and scope 
in this business of self-examination ; if they 
did but look backwards to what they were, 
inwards to what they are, and forwards to 
what they shall be. 

And as this is the first and most necessary 
step to self-acquaintance, it may not be 
amiss to be a little more particular in it. 
Therefore, 

(1.) This business of self-scrutiny must 
be performed with great care and diligence, 
otherwise our hearts will deceive us even 
whilst we are examining them. " When 
" we set ourselves to think, some trifle or 
" other presently interrupts and draws us 
u off from any profitable recollection. Nay, 
" we ourselves fly out, and are glad to be 
K diverted from a severe examination into 
" our own state ; which is sure, if diligently 
<c pursued, to present us with objects of 



199 

"■shame and sorrow, which will wound our 
" sight, and soon make us weary of this ne- 
" cessary work." — Stanhope's Thomas & 
Kempis, page 166. 

Do not let us flatter ourselves, then, that 
this is a mighty easy business ; much pains 
and care are necessary sometimes to keep 
the mind intent, and more to keep it im- 
partial ; and the difficulty of it is the reason 
that so many are averse to it, and care not to 
descend into themselves. 

Reader, try the experiment ; retire now 
into thyself, and see if thou canst not strike 
out some light within, by closely urging 
such questions as these : " What am I ? 
" for what was I made ? and to what ends 
" have I been preserved so long by the fa- 
" vour of my Maker ? do I remember, or 
" forget those ends ? have I answered, or 
" perverted them ? What have I been do- 
u ing since I came into the world ? what is 
u the world or myself the better for my 
" living so many years in it ? what is my 
" allowed course of actions ? am I sure it 
" will bear the future test? Am I now in 



200 

H the state I shall wish to die in ? and, O 
u my soul, think, and think again, what it 
" is to die ! Do not put that most awful 
" event far from thee ; nor pass it by with 
" a superficial thought. Canst thou be too 
" well fortified against the terrors of that 
" day ? and art thou sure that the props 
" which support thee now will not fail thee 
" then ? What hopes hast thou for eternity ? 
" hast thou, indeed, that holy, godlike tem- 
" per, which alone can fit thee for the enjoy- 
" ment of God ? Which world art thou 
" most concerned for? what things do most 
" deeply affect thee ? O my soul, remember 
" thy dignity ; think how soon the scene 
" will shift. Why shouldst thou forget thou 
u art immortal ?" 

(2.) This self-excitation and scrutiny must 
be very frequently made. They y w T ho have 
a great deal of important business on their 
hands, should be often looking over their 
accounts, and frequently adjust them, lest 
they should be going backwards, and not 
know it ; and custom will soon take off the 
difficulty of this duty, and turn it into delight. 



201 

In our morning retreat, it will be proper 
to remember that we cannot preserve 
throughout the day that calm and even 
temper we may then bfe in ; that we shall 
very probably meet with some things to 
ruffle us, some attack on our weak side. 
Place a guard there now. Or, however, 
if no incidents happen to discompose us, 
our tempers will vary; our thoughts will 
flow pretty much with our blood; and the 
dispositions of the mind be a good deal 
governed by the motions of the animal spi- 
rits ; our souls will be serene or cloudy, our 
tempers volatile or phlegmatic, and our in- 
clinations sober or irregular, according to 
the briskness or sluggishness of the circula- 
tion of the animal fluids, whatever may be 
the cause or immediate occasion of that ; 
and therefore, we must resolve to avoid all 
occasions that may raise any dangerous fer- 
ments there, which, when once raised, will 
excite in us very different thoughts and 
dispositions from those we now have ; which, 
together with the force of a fair opportunity 
and urgent temptation, may overset our 



202 

reason and resolution, and betray us into 
those sinful indulgences which will wound 
the conscience, stain the soul, and create 
bitter remorse in our cooler reflections. 
Pious thoughts and purposes, in the morn- 
ing, will set a guard upon the soul, and for- 
tify it under all the temptations of the day. 

But such self-inspection, however, should 
never fail to make part of the evening devo- 
tions, when we should review and examine 
the several actions of the day, the various 
tempers and dispositions we have been in, 
and the occasions that excited them. It is 
an advice worthy of a Christian, though it 
first dropped from a heathen pen, that be- 
fore we betake ourselves to rest, we review 
and examine all the passages of the day, 
that we may have the comfort of what we 
have done aright, and may redress what we 
find to have been amiss ; and make the ship- 
wrecks of one day be as marks to direct our 
course on another ; a practice that hath 
been recommended by many of the heathen 
moralists of the greatest name, as Plutarch, 
Epictetus, Marcus Antoninus ; and particu- 



203 

larly Pythagoras, in the verses that go under 
his name, and are called his golden verses. 
Wherein he advises his scholars every night 
to recollect the passages of the day, and 
ask themselves these questions : " Wherein 
u have I transgressed this day ? what have 
" I done? what duty have I omitted ?" &c. 
Seneca recommends the same practice. 
" Sectius (saith he) did this: At the close 
" of the day, before he betook himself to 
" rest, he addressed his soul in the follow- 
" ing manner: What evil of thine hast thou 
" cured this day ? what vice withstood ? in 
" what respect art thou better ? Passion 
" will cease, or become more cool, when it 
" knows it is every day to be thus called 
" to account. What can be more advan- 
" tageous than this constant custom of 
" searching through the day ? — And the 
" same course (saith Seneca) I take my- 
" self ; and every day sit in judgment on 
" myself. And, at even, when all is hush 
" and still, I make a scrutiny into the day ; 
" look over my words and actions, and hide 
" nothing from myself ; conceal none of my 



204 

" mistakes through fear. For why should 
" I, when I have it in my power to say 
f 6 thus ? This once I forgive thee, but see 
4C thou do so no more. In such a dispute 
ff I was too keen : do not, for the future, 
" contend with ignorant men ; they will not 
6C be convinced, because they are unwilling 
" to show their ignorance. Such a one I 
" reproved with too much freedom, whereby 
" I have not reformed, but exasperated 
" him ; remember hereafter to be more 
" mild in your censures ; and consider not 
u only whether what you say be true, but 
'" whether the person you say it to can bear 
■" to hear the truth." Senec. de Ira, lib. 3. 
cap. 36. Thus far that excellent moralist. 

Let us take a few other specimens of a 
more pious and Christian turn, from a judi- 
cious and devout writer. 

" This morning when I arose, instead of 
u applying myself to God in prayer (which 
" I generally find it best to do immediately 
a after a few serious reflections), I gave 
u way to idle musing, to the great disorder 
a of my heart and frame. How often have 



205 

ft I suffered for want of more watchfulness 
" on this occasion ? When shall I be wise ? 
" I have this day shamefully trifled almost 
" through the whole of it ; was in my bed 
" when I should have been upon my knees ; 
" prayed but coolly in the morning ; was 
" strangely off my guard in the business and 
" conversation I was concerned with in the 

" day, particularly at ; I indulged in 

" very foolish, sinful, vile thoughts, &c. I 
" fell in with a strain of conversation too 
" common among all sorts, viz. Speaking 
<4 evil of others ; taking up a reproach 
" against my neighbour. I have often re- 
" solved against this sin, and yet run into it 
" again. How treacherous this wicked 
" heart of mine ! I have lost several hours 
" this day in mere sauntering and idleness. 
" This day I had an instance of mine own 
" infirmity, that I was a little surprised at, 
" and I am sure I ought to be humbled for. 
" The behaviour of — — , from whom I can 
" expect nothing but humour, indiscretion, 
" and folly, strangely ruffled me ; and that af~ 



206 

" ter I have had warning over and over again. 
" What a poor, impotent, contemptible 
" creature am I ! This day I have been 
" kept, in a great measure, from my too 
" frequent failings. I had this day very 
" comfortable assistances from God, upon 
" an occasion not a little trying — what shall 
" I render?" — Bennet's Christ* Orat. 

(3.) See that the mind be in the most 
composed and disengaged frame it can, 
when you enter upon this business of self- 
judgment. Chuse a time when it is most 
free from passion, and most at leisure from 
the cares and affairs of life. A judge is not 
like to bring a cause to a good issue, that is 
either intoxicated with liquor on the bench, 
or has his mind distracted with other cares, 
when he should be intent on the trial. Re- 
member you sit in judgment upon yourself, 
and have nothing to do at present but to sift 
the evidence which conscience may bring 
in either for or against you, in order to pro- 
nounce a just sentence, which is of much 
greater concernment to you at present than 



207 

any thing else can be ; and therefore it 
should be transacted with the utmost care, 
composure, and attention. 

(4.) Beware of partiality , and the influence 
of self-love, in this weighty business ; which 
if you do not guard against it, will soon 
lead you in'o self-delusion, the consequences 
of which may be fatal to you. Labour to 
see yourself as you are ; and view things in 
the light in which they are, not in that 
in which you would have them be. Re- 
member, that the mind is always apt to be- 
lieve those things true, which it would have 
be so ; and backward to believe those things 
true, which it wishes were not so ; and this 
is an influence you will certainly lie under 
in this affair of self-judgment. 

You need not be much afraid of being too 
severe upon yourself; your great danger will 
generally be passing a too favourable judg- 
ment. A judge ought not, indeed, to be a 
party concerned, and should have no interest 
in the person he sits in judgment upon, 
But this cannot be the case here, as yau 
yourself are both judge and criminal, which 
08 



208 

shows the danger of pronouncing a too fa- 
vourable sentence. But remember your 
business is only with the evidence and the 
rule of judgment ; and that, however you 
come off now, there will be a rehearing in 
another court, where judgment will be ac- 
cording to truth. 

" However, look not unequally , either at 
u the good or evil that is in you, but view 
" them as they are. If you observe only 
" the good that is in you, and overlook the 
iS bad, or search only after your faults^ and 
" overlook your graces, neither of these 
" will bring you to a true acquaintance with 
" yourself." — Baxter's Director. 

And to induce you to this impartiality, 
remember that this business (though it may 
be hid from the world) is not done in secret. 
God sees how you manage it, before whose 
tribunal you must expect a righteous judg- 
ment. a We should order our thoughts so 
" (saith Seneca) as if we had a window in 
a our breasts, through which any one might 
" see what passes there. And indeed there 
" is one that does : for what does it signify, 



209 

u that our thoughts are hid from men? 
" From God nothing is hid." — Sen. Epist. 
84. 

(5.) Beware of false rules of judgment. 
This is a sure and common way to self-de- 
ception. E> G. Some judge themselves by 
what they have been. But it does not 
follow, if men are not so bad as they have 
been, that therefore they are as good as they 
should be. It is wrong to make our past 
conduct implicitly the measure of our pre- 
sent ; or the present the rule of our futute ; 
when our past, present, and future conduct 
must all be brought to another rule. And 
they, who thus " measure themselves by 
" themselves, and compare themselves with 
" themselves, are not wise." 2 Cor. x. 12. 
Again, others are apt to judge of themselves 
by the opinions of men, which is the most 
uncertain rule that can be ; for in that very 
opinion of theirs you may be deceived. 
How do you know they have really so good 
an opinion of you as they profess ? but if 
they have, have not others as bad ? and why 
should not the opinion of these be your rule 
P 



210 

as well as the opinion of those ? Appeal to 
self-flattery for an answer. However, nei- 
ther one nor the other of them, perhaps, 
appear to know themselves, and how should 
they know yon ? how is it possible they 
should have opportunities of knowing you 
better than you know yourself? A man can 
never gain a right knowledge of himself 
from the opinion of others, which is so va- 
rious, and generally so ill founded ; for men 
commonly judge by outward appearances* 
or inw r ard prejudice, and therefore, for the 
most part, think and speak of us very much 
at random. Again, others are for judging 
©f themselves by the conduct of their supe- 
riors, who have opportunities and advan- 
tages of knowing, acting, and being better : 
and yet, without vanity be it spoken, say 
they, we are not behind hand with them. 
But what then? Neither they nor you, per- 
haps, are what the obligations of your cha- 
racter indispensably require you to be, and 
what you must be, ere you can be happy. 
But consider how easily this argument may 
be turned upon you. You are better than 



211 

some, you say, who have greater opportuni- 
ties and advantages of being good than you 
have, and therefore your state is safe : but 
you yourself have greater opportunities and 
advantages of being good than some others 
have, who are, nevertheless, better than 
you ; and therefore, by the same rule, your 
state cannot be safe. Again, others judge 
of themselves by the common maxims of 
the vulgar world concerning honour and 
honesty, virtue and interest, which maxims, 
though generally very corrupt, and very 
contrary to those of reason, conscience, and 
scripture, men will follow as a rule, for the 
sake of the latitude it allows them ; and 
fondly think, that, if they stand right in the 
opinion of the lowest kind of men, they 
have no reason to be severe upon themselves. 
Others, whose sentiments are more delicate 
and refined, they imagine, maybe mistaken, 
or may overstrain the matter. In which 
persuasion they are confirmed, by observing 
how seldom the consciences of the gene- 
rality of men smite them for those things 
which these nice judges condemn as heinous 
p 2 



212 

crimes. I need not say how false and per- 
nicious a rale this is. Again, others may 
judge of themselves and their state by sudden 
impressions they have had, or wrong im- 
pulses upon their spirits, which they attri- 
bute to the finger of God ; and by which 
they have been so exceedingly affected, a« 
to make no doubt but that it was the instant 
of their conversion ; but whether it was, or 
not, can never be known but by the con- 
duct of their after lives. In like manner, 
others judge of their good state by their 
good frames, though very rare it may be, 
and very transient, soon passing off " like 
" a morning cloud, or as the early dew." — 
" But we should not judge of ourselves by 
" that which is unusual or extraordinary 
" with us, but by the ordinary tenor and 
" drift of our lives. A bad man may seem 
" good in some good mood, and a good man 
" may seem bad in some extraordinary falls. 
" To judge of a bad man by his best hours, 
" and a good man by his worst, is the way 
" to be deceived in them both." — Baxter's 
Director. — And the same way may you be 



213 

deceived in yourself. Pharaoh, Ahab, He- 
rod and Felix, had all of them their soften- 
ings, their transitory fits of goodness ; but 
yet they remain upon record under the 
blackest characters. 

These, then, are all the wrong rules of 
judgment ; and to trust to them, or try our- 
selves by them, leads to fatal self-deception. 
Again, 

(6.) In the business of self-examination, 
you must not only take care you do not 
judge by wrong rules, but that you do not 
judge wrong by right rules. You must en- 
deavour, then, to be well acquainted with 
them. The office of a judge is not only to 
collect the evidence and the circumstances 
of facts, but to be well skilled in the laws 
by which those facts are to be examined. 

Now, the only right rules by which we 
are to examine, in order to know ourselves, 
are reason and scripture. Some are for 
setting aside these rules, as too severe for 
them, too stiff to bend to their perverseness, 
too straight to measure their crooked ways ; 
are against reason, when reason is against 



214 

them ; decrying it as carnal reason ; and, 
for the same cause, are against scripture 
too, depreciating it as a dead letter. And 
thus, rather than be convinced they are 
wrong, they despise the only means that 
can set them right. 

And as some are for setting aside each 
part of their rules, so others are for setting 
them one against the other ; reason against 
scripture, and scripture against reason ; when 
they are both given us by the God of our 
natures, not only as perfectly consistent, but 
as proper to explain and illustrate each 
other, and prevent our mistaking either; 
and to be, when taken together (as they 
always should), the most complete and only 
rule by which to judge both for ourselves, 
and every thing belonging to our salvation, 
as reasonable and fallen creatures. 

(1.) Then, one part of that rule, which 
God hath given us to judge of ourselves by, 
is right reason : by which I do not mean 
the reasoning of any particular man, which 
may be very different from the reasoning of 
another particular man, and both, it may 



215 

be, very different from right reason ; because 
both may be influenced, not so much by the 
reason and nature of things, as by partial 
prepossessions and the power of passions ; 
but, by right reason, I mean those common 
principles, which are readily allowed by all 
who are capable of understanding them, 
and not notoriously perverted by the power 
of prejudice, and which are confirmed by 
the common consent of all the sober and 
thinking part of mankind, and may be easily 
learned by the light of nature. Therefore, 
if any doctrine or practice, though supposed 
to be founded in, or countenanced by, reve- 
lation, be nevertheless apparently repug- 
nant to these dictates of right reason, or 
evidently contradict our natural notions of 
the divine attributes, or weaken our obliga- 
tions" to universal virtue, that, we may be 
sure, is no part of revelation, because then 
one part of our rule would clash with, and 
be opposite to, the other. And thus reason 
was designed to be our guard against a w T ild 
and extravagant construction of scripture. 
(2.) The other part of our rule is the sa- 



216 

cred scriptures, which we are to use as our 
guard against the licentious excursions of 
fancy, which is often imposing itself upon 
us for right reason. Let any religious 
scheme or notion, then, appear ever so pleas- 
ing or plausible, if it be not established on 
the plain principles of scripture, it is forth- 
with to be discarded ; and that sense of scrip- 
ture, that is violently forced to bend towards 
it, is very much to be suspected. 

It must be very surprising to one who 
reads and studies the sacred scriptures with 
a free unbiassed mind, to see what elaborate, 
fine-spun, and flimsy glosses men will invent 
and put upon some texts as the true and 
genuine sense of them, for no other reason, 
but because it is most agreeable to the opi- 
nion of their party, from which, as the stan- 
dard of their orthodoxy, they durst never 
depart ; who, if they were to write a critique, 
in the same manner, on any Greek or Latin 
author, would make themselves extremely 
ridiculous in the eyes of the learned world. 
But, if we would not pervert our rule, we 
must learn to think as scripture speaks, and 



217 

not compel that to speak as we think. 
Would we know ourselves, then, we must 
often view ourselves in the glass of God's 
word. And when we have taken a full sur- 
vey of ourselves from thence, let us not soon 
forget " what manner of persons we are." 
James, i. 23, 24. If our own image do not 
please us, let us not quarrel with our mirror, 
but set about mending ourselves. 

The eye of the mind, indeed, is not like 
that of the body, which can see every thing 
else but itself; for the eye of the mind can 
turn itself inward, and survey itself. How- 
ever, it must be owned, it can see itself 
much better when its own image is reflected 
upon it from this mirror. And it is by this 
only that we can come at the bottom of our 
hearts, and discover those secret prejudices 
and carnal prepossessions, which self-love 
would hide^from us. 

This, then, is the first thing we must do 
in order to self-knowledge. We must exa- 
mine, scrutinize, and judge ourselves, dili- 
gently, leisurely, frequently, and impartially ; 
and that not by the false maxims of the 



218 

world, but by the rales which God hath 
given us, reason and scripture ; and take 
care to understand those rules, and not set 
them at variance. The next important step 
to self-knowledge is the subject of the fol- 
lowing chapter. 



219 



CHAP. II. 

Constant watchfulness, necessary to self- 
knowledge. 

II. " Vf ould we know ourselves, we must 
'* be very watchful over our hearts and lives." 
(1.) We must keep a vigilant eye upon 
our hearts, t. e. our tempers, inclinations, 
and passions. A more necessary piece of 
advice we cannot practice, in order to self- 
acquaintance, than that which Solomon 
gives us, Prov. iv. 23. " Keep your heart 
" with all diligence," or, as it is in the ori- 
ginal, " above all keeping." Q. D. What- 
ever, you neglect or overlook, be sure you 
mind your heart. Narrowly observe all its 
inclinations and aversions, all its motions 
and affections, together with the several ob- 
jects and occasions which excite them. 
And this precept is enforced with two very 



220 

urgent reasons in scripture. The first is, 
because " out of it are the issues of life." 
i. e. As our heart is, so will the tenor of our 
life and conduct be. As is the fountain, so 
are the streams ; as is the root, so is the 
fruit. Matth. vii. 18. And the other is, 
because " it is deceitful above all things." 
Jer. xvii. 9. And therefore, without a con- 
stant guard upon it, we shall insensibly run 
into many hurtful self-deceptions. "To 
which I may add, that, without this careful 
keeping of the heart, we shall never be able 
to acquire any considerable degree of self- 
acquaintance or self-government. 

(2.) To know ourselves, we must watch 
our life and conduct, as well as our hearts. 
And, by this, the heart will be better known ; 
as the root is best known by the fruit. We 
must attend to the nature and consequences 
of every action we are disposed or solicited 
to, before we comply ; and consider how it 
will appear in an impartial review. We 
are apt enough to observe and watch the 
conduct of others ; a wise man will be as 
critical and as severe upon his own : For 



221 

indeed we have a great deal more to do with 
our own conduct than other men's ; as we 
are to answer for our own, but not for theirs. 
By observing the conduct of other men, we 
know them ; by carefully observing our 
own, we must know ourselves. 



222 



CHAP. III. 

We should have some regard to the opinions 
of others concerning us, particularly of 
our enemies. 

III. " Would we know ourselves, we 
" should not altogether neglect the opinion 
" which others have of us, or the things 
" they may say of us." 

Not that we need be very solicitous about 
the censure or applause of the world, which 
s is generally very rash and wrong, according 
to the particular humours and prepossessions 
of men ; and a man, that knows himself, will 
soon know how to despise them both. 
" The judgment which the world makes of 
" us, is generally of no manner of use to us ; 
" it adds nothing to our souls or bodies, nor 
46 lessens any of our miseries. Let us con- 
" stantly follow reason," says Montaigne, 



223 

" and let the public approbation follow us 
" the same way if it pleases." 

But still, I say, a total indifference in this 
matter is unwise. We ought not to be en- 
tirely insensible to the reports of others ; 
no, not to the railings of an enemy : for an 
enemy may say something out of ill-will to 
us, which it may concern us to think of 
coolly when we are by ourselves ; to exa- 
mine whether the accusation be just, and 
what there is in our conduct and temper 
which may make it appear so. And by this 
means our enemy may do us more good than 
he intended, and be an occasion of discover- 
ing something of our hearts to us, which 
we did not know before. A man, that hath 
no enemies, ought to have very faithful 
friends ; and one, who hath no such friends, 
ought to think it no calamity that he hath 
enemies to be his effectual monitors. — " Our 
" friends," says Mr. Addison, " very often 
" flatter us as much as our own hearts 
" They either do not see our faults, or con- 
" ceal them from us ; or soften them by 
" their representations, after such a manner , 



224 

i that we think them too trivial to be taken 
6 notice of. An adversary, on the contrary, 
c makes a stricter search into us, discovers 
' every flaw and imperfection in our tem- 
< pers ; and, though his malice may set 
; them in too strong a light, it has gene- 
\ rally some ground for what it advances. 
6 A friend exaggerates a man's virtues ; an 
c enemy inflames his crimes. A wise man 
6 should give a just attention to both of 
' them, so far as it may tend to improve- 
6 ment of the one, and the diminution of 
; the other. Plutarch has written an essay 
' on the benefits which a man may receive 
6 from his enemies ; and among the good 
' fruits of enmity, mentions this in particu- 
6 lar, that, by the reproaches it casts upon 
c us, we see the worst side of ourselves, and 
6 open our eyes to several blemishes and 
4 defects in our lives and conversations, 
6 which we should not have observed with- 
c out the help of such ill-natured monitors. 

" In order, likewise, to come at a true 
6 knowledge of ourselves, we should consi- 
i der, on the other hand, how far we may 



225 

*' deserve the praises and approbation which 
* 4 the world bestow upon us ; whether the 
* 6 actions they celebrate proceed from lau- 
" dable and worthy motives, and how far 
" we are really possessed of the virtues 
" which gain us applause amongst those 
" with whom we converse. Such a refiec- 
" tion is absolutely necessary, if we consider 
" how apt we are either to value or con- 
" demn ourselves by the opinions of others, 
" and to sacrifice the report of our own 
" hearts to the judgment of the world." — 
Spectator, vol. vi. N° 399. 

It is the character of a very dissolute 
mind, to be entirely insensible to all that 
the world says of us ; and shows such a con- 
fidence of self-knowledge, as is usually a sure 
sign of self-ignorance. The most knowing 
minds are ever least presumptuous. And 
true self-knowledge is a science of so much 
depth and difficulty, that a wise man would 
not chuse to be over confident, that all his 
notions of himself are right, in opposition 
to the judgment of all mankind ; some of 
whom, perhaps, have better opportunities 

a 



226 

and advantages of knowing him (at some 
seasons especially) than he has of knowing 
himself; because they never look through 
the same false medium of self-flattery. 



227 



CHAP. IV. 

Frequent converse with superiors y a help to 
self-knowledge. 

IV. " Another proper means of self- 
" knowledge, is to converse as much as you 
" can with those who are your superiors in 
" real excellence." 

" He, that walketh with wise men, shall 
" be wise." Prov. xiii. 20. Their example 
will not only be your motive to laudable 
pursuits, but a mirror to your mind ; by 
which you may possibly discern some fail- 
ings, or deficiencies, or neglects, in yourself, 
which before escaped you. You will see the 
unreasonableness of your vanity and self- 
sufficiency, when you observe how much 
you are surpassed by others in knowledge 
and goodness. Their proficiency will make 
your defects the -more obvious to you. And 
Q 2 



228 

by the lustre of their virtues, you will better 
see the deformity of your vices ; your ne- 
gligence, by their diligence ; your pride, 
by their humility ; your passion, by their 
meekness ; and your folly, by their wisdom. 
Examples not only move, but teach and 
direct much more effectually than precepts ; 
and show us, not only that such virtues may 
be practised, but how; and how lovely they 
appear when they are. And therefore, if 
we cannot have them always before our 
eyes, we should endeavour to have them 
always in our mind ; and especially that of 
our great head and pattern, who hath set us 
a lovely example of the most innocent con- 
duct, under the worst and most disadvan- 
ageous circumstances of human life. 



229 



CHAP. V. 

Of cultivating such a temper as will be the 
best disposition to self-knowledge. 

V. "If a man would know himself, he 
66 must, with great care, cultivate that tem- 
" per, which will best dispose him to receive 
**■ this knowledge." 

Now, as there are no greater hindrances 
to self-knowledge than pride and obstinacy, 
so there is nothing more helpful to it than 
humility and an openness to conviction. 

(I.) One, who is in quest of self-know- 
ledge, must, above all things, seek humility. 
And how near an affinity there is between 
these two, appears from hence, that they 
are both acquired the same way. The very 
means of attaining humility are the pro- 
perest means for attaining self-knowledge. 
By keeping an eye every day upon our faults 



230 

and wants, we become more humble ; and. 
by the same means, we become more self- 
knowing. By considering how far we fall 
short of our rule and our duty, and how 
vastly others exceed us, and especially by a 
daily and diligent study of the word of God, 
we come to have meaner thoughts of our- 
selves; and, by the very same means, we come 
to have a better acquaintance with ourselves. 

A proud man cannot know himself. Pride 
is that beam in the eye of his mind, which 
renders him quite blind to any blemishes 
there. Hence, nothing is a surer sign of 
self-ignorance than vanity and ostentation. 

Indeed, true self-knowledge and humility 
are so necessarily connected, that they de- 
pend upon, and mutually beget, each other. 
A man, that knows himself, knows the w r orst 
of himself, and therefore cannot but be 
humble ; and a humble mind is frequently 
contemplating its own faults and weak- 
nesses, which greatly improves it in self- 
knowledge. So that self-acquaintance makes 
a man humble ; and humility gives him still 
a better acquaintance with himself. 



231 

(2.) An openness to conviction is no less 
necessary to self-knowledge than humility. 

As nothing is a greater bar to true know- 
ledge than an obstinate stiffness in opinion, 
and a fear to depart from old notions, which 
(before we were capable of judging perhaps) 
we had long taken up for the truth, so no- 
thing is a greater bar to self-knowledge, 
than a strong aversion to part with those 
sentiments of ourselves which we have been 
blindly accustomed to, and to think worse 
of ourselves than we are used. 

And such an unwillingness to retract our 
sentiments, in both cases, proceeds from the 
same cause, viz. a reluctance to self-con- 
demnation. For he, that takes up a new 
way of thinking, contrary to that which he 
hath long received, therein condemns him- 
self of having lived in an error ; and he, 
that begins to see faults in himself he never 
saw before, condemns himself of having 
lived in ignorance and sin, Now this is an 
ungrateful business, and what self-flattery 
gives us a strong aversion to. 

But such an inflexibility of judgment 
and hatred of conviction, is a very unhappy 



232 

and hurtful turn of mind. And a man, that 
is resolved never to be in the wrong, is in 
a fair way never to be in the right. 

As infallibility is no privilege of the human 
nature, it is no diminution to a man's good 
sense or judgment to be found in an error, 
provided he is willing to retract it. He acts 
with the same freedom and liberty as be- 
fore : whoever be his monitor, it is his own 
good sense and judgment that still guides 
him ; which shines to great advantage in 
thus directing him against the bias of vanity 
and self-opinion. And in thus changing 
his sentiments, he only acknowledges that 
he is not, what no man ever was, incapable 
of being mistaken. In short, it is more 
merit, and an argument of a more excellent 
mind, for a man freely to retract when he is 
in the wrong, than to be overbearing and 
positive when he is in the right. 

A man, then, must be willing to know 
himself, before he can know himself. He 
must open his eyes, if he desires to see ; 
yield to evidence and conviction, though it 
be at the expence of his judgment, and to 
the mortification of his vanity. 



233 



CHAP. VI. 

To be sensible of our false knowledge, a good 
step to self-knowledge. 

VI. " A'V guld you know yourself, take 
u heed and guard against false knowledge." 

See that the " light that is within you be 
" not darkness ;" that your favourite and 
leading principles be right. Search your 
furniture, and see what you have to unlearn. 
For oftentimes there is as much wisdom in 
casting off some knowledge which we have, 
as in acquiring that which we have not; 
which, perhaps, was what made Themisto- 
cles reply, when one offered to teach him 
the art of memory, that " he had much 
" rather he would teach him the art of 
" forgetfulness." 

A scholar, that hath been all his life col- 
lecting of books, will find in his library, at 



234 

last, a great deal of rubbish ; and, as his 
taste alters, and his judgment improves, he 
will throw out a great many as trash and 
lumber, which, it may be, be once valued 
and paid dear for, and replace them with 
such as are more solid and useful. Just so 
should we deal with our understandings ; 
look over the furniture of the mind ; sepa- 
rate the chaff from the wheat, which are 
generally received into it together ; and take 
as much pains to forget what we ought not 
to have learned, as to retain what we ought 
not to forget. To read froth and trifles all 
our life, is the way always to retain a flashy 
and, juvenile turn ; and only to contemplate 
our first (which is generally our worst) 
knowledge, cramps the progress of the un- 
derstanding, and is a great hindrance to a 
true self-knowledge. In short, would we 
improve the understanding to the valuable 
purposes of self-knowledge, we must take as 
much care what books we read, as what com- 
pany we keep. 

" The pains we take in books or arts, 
" which treat of things remote from the use 






235 

" of life, is a busy idleness. If I study 
" (says Montaigne) it is for no other science 
te than what treats of the knowledge of 
" myself, and instructs me how to live and 
" die well."— Rule of Life. 

It is a comfortless speculation, and a plain 
proof of the imperfection of the human un- 
derstanding, that, upon a narrow scrutiny 
into our furniture, we observe a great many 
things which we think we know, but do not ; 
and a great many things which we do know, 
but ought not; that of the knowledge 
which we have been all our lives collecting, 
a good deal of it is mere ignorance, and a 
good deal of it w^orse than ignorance. To 
be sensible of which is a very necessary step 
to self-acquaintance, See Part I. Chap. xiiL 



236 



CHAP. VII. 

Self-inspection peculiarly necessary upon 
some particular occasions. 

VII. " Would you know yourself, you 
" must very carefully attend to the frame 
" and emotions of your mind, under some 
" particular incidents and occasions." 

Some sudden accidents which befal you 
when the mind is most off its guard, will 
better discover its secret turn and prevailing 
disposition, than much greater events you 
are prepared for. E. G. 

(1.) Consider how you behave under any 
sudden affronts or provocations from men. 
" A fool's wrath is presently known," Prov. 
xii. 16. i. e. a fool is presently known by 
his wrath. 

If your anger be soon kindled, it is a sign 
that secret pride lies lurking in the heart, 



237 

which, like gunpowder, takes fire at every 
spark of provocation that lights upon it. 
For whatever may be owing to a natural 
temper, it is certain that pride is the chief 
cause of frequent and wrathful resentments ; 
for pride and anger are as nearly allied as 
humility and meekness. " Only by pride 
" cometh contention." Prov. xiii. 10. And 
a man would not know what mud lay at 
the bottom of his heart, if provocation did 
not stir it up. 

Athenodorus the philosopher, by reason 
of his old age, begged leave to retire from 
the court of Augustus, which the emperor 
granted him ; and as Athenodorus was taking 
his leave of him, " Remember," said he, 
M Csesar, whenever you are angry, you say 
" or do nothing, before you have repeated 
" the four-and-twenty letters of the alphabet 
" to yourself." Whereupon Caesar, catch- 
ing him by the hand, " I have need," says 
he, " of your presence still ;" and kept him 
a year longer. This is celebrated by the 
ancients as a rule of excellent wisdom. But 
a Christian may prescribe to himself a much 



238 

wiser, viz. " When you are angry, answer 
" not till you have repeated the fifth peti- 
" tion of the Lord's prayer, ' Forgive us 
u our trespasses, as we forgive them that 
" trespass against us ;' and our Saviour's 
" comment upon it, ' For if ye forgive men 
" their trespasses, your heavenly Father will 
" also forgive you ; but if ye forgive not 
" men their trespasses, neither will your 
" Father forgive your trespasses." Matth. 
vi. 14, 15. 

It is a just and seasonable thought that of 
Marcus Antoninus, upon such occasions. 
" A man misbehaves himself towards me — 
" what is that to me? The action is his ; 
" and the will that sets him upon it is his ; 
" and therefore let him look to it. The 
" fault and injury is his, not mine. As for 
" me, I am in the condition Providence 
" would have me, and am doing what be- 
" comes me." — Meditations, book v. § 25. 

But still this amounts only to a philoso- 
phical contempt of injuries, and falls much 
beneath a Christian forgiveness of them ; 
which, as Christians, we are bound to, and 



239 

which if we know ourselves, we shall be dis- 
posed to. And therefore, in order to a true 
self-knowledge, we must always take care 
to examine and observe in what manner we 
are affected in such circumstances. 

(2.) How do you behave under a severe 
and unexpected affliction from the hand of 
Providence ? which is another circumstance, 
which, when rightly improved, will help us 
very much to know ourselves. 

If there be an habitual discontent or im- 
patience lurking within us, this will draw it 
forth, especially if the affliction be attended 
with any of those aggravating circumstances, 
with which Job's was. 

Afflictions are often sent with this intent, 
to teach us to know ourselves ; and, there- 
fore, ought to be carefully improved to this 
purpose. 

And much of the wisdom and goodness 
of our heavenly Father is seen by a serious 
and attentive mind, not only in proportion- 
ing the degrees of his corrections to his chil- 
dren's strength, but in adapting the kinds 
of them to their tempers ; afflicting one in 



240 

one way, another in another, according as 
he knows they are most easily wrought upon, 
and as will be most for their advantage : by 
which means a slight affliction of one kind 
may as deeply affect us, and procure as great 
an advantage to us, as a much greater of 
another kind. 

It is a trite but true observation, that a 
wise man receives more benefit from his ene- 
mies than from his friends, from his afflic- 
tions than from his mercies ; by which 
means he makes his enemies in effect his 
best friends, and his afflictions his greatest 
mercies. Certain it is, that a man never 
has an opportunity of taking a more fair and 
undisguised view of himself than in these 
circumstances : and therefore, by diligently 
observing in what manner he is affected at 
such times, he may make an improvement 
in the true knowledge of himself, very much 
to his future advantage, though perhaps not 
a little to his present mortification ; for a 
sudden provocation from man, or severe 
affliction from God, may detect something 
which lay latent and undiscovered so long 



241 

at the bottom of his heart, that he never 
once suspected it to have had any place 
there. Thus the one excited wrath in the 
meekest man, Psal. cvi. 33. and the other 
passion in the most patient. Job iii. 3. 

By considering, then, in what manner we 
bear the particular afflictions God is pleased 
to allot us, and what benefit we receive from 
them, we may come to a very considerable 
acquaintance with ourselves. 

(3. ) In a time of peace, prosperity, and 
pleasure, when the soul is generally most 
unguarded, what is its temper and disposi- 
tion then ? 

This is the warm season that nourishes 
and impregnates the seeds of vanity, self- 
confidence, and a supercilious contempt of 
others. If there be such a root of bitterness 
in the heart, it will be very apt to shoot forth 
in the sunshine of uninterrupted prosperity, 
even after the frost of adversity had nipped 
it, and, as we thought, killed it. 

Prosperity is a trial, as well as adversity, 
and is commonly attended with more dan- 
gerous temptations. And were the mind 
K 



242 

but as seriously disposed to self-reflection, 
it would have a greater advantage of attain- 
ing a true knowledge of itself under the 
former than under the latter. But the un- 
happiness of it is, the mind is seldom rightly 
turned for such an employment under those 
circumstances. It has something else to do ; 
has the concerns of the world to mind ; and 
is too much engaged by the things without 
it, to advert to those within it ; and is more 
disposed to enjoy than examine itself 
However, it is a very necessary season for 
self-examination, and a very proper time 
to acquire a good degree of self-knowledge, 
if rightly improved. 

(Lastly,)How do we behave in bad com- 
pany ? 

And that is to be reckoned bad company, 
in which there is no probability of our doing 
or getting any good, but apparent danger 
of our doing or getting much harm ; I mean, 
our giving offence to others, by an indiscreet 
zeal, or incurring guilt to ourselves, by a 
criminal compliance. 

Are we carried down by the torrent of 



243 

vanity and vice? Will a flash of wit, or a 
brilliant fancy, make us excuse a profane 
expression ? If so, we shall soon come to 
relish it, when thus seasoned, and use it our- 
selves. This is a time when our zeal and 
wisdom, our fortitude and firmness, are ge- 
nerally put to the most delicate proof, and 
when we may too often take notice of the 
unsuspected escapes of folly, fickleness, and 
indiscretion. 

At such seasons as these, then, we may 
often discern what lies at the bottom of our 
hearts, better than we can in the more even 
and customary scenes of life, when the pas- 
sions are all calm and still : and therefore, 
would we know ourselves, we should be very 
attentive to our frame, temper, disposition 
and conduct, upon such occasions* 



H £ 



244 



CHAP. VIII. 






To know our selves, we must wholly abstract 
from external appearances. 

VIII. " Would you know yourself, you 
" must, as far as possible, get above thein- 
" fluence of external appearances and cir- 
4; cumstances." 

A man is what his heart is. The know- 
ledge of himself is the knowledge of his 
heart, which is entirely an inward thing ; 
to the knowledge of which, then, outward 
things (such as man's condition and cir- 
cumstances in the world) can contribute 
nothing ; but, on the other hand, if taken 
into any consideration, will be a great bar 
and hindrance to him im his pursuit of self- 
knowledge. 

(1.) Are your circumstances in the world 
©asy and prosperous, take care you do not 



245 

judge of yourself too favourably on that 
account. 

These things are without you, and there- 
fore can never be the measure of what is 
within you ; and however the world may 
respect you for them, they do not in the 
least make you either a wiser or more valu- 
able man. 

In forming a true judgment of yourself, 
then, you must entirely set aside the consi- 
deration of your estate and family, your 
wit, beauty, genius, health, &c. which are 
all but the appendages or trappings of a 
man, or a smooth and shining varnish, 
which may lacquer over the basest metal. 

A man may be a good and happy man 
without these things, and a bad and wretched 
one with them. Nay, he may have all 
these, and be the worse for them. They are 
so far from being good and excellent in 
themselves, that we often see Providence 
bestows them upon the vilest of men, and, 
in kindness, denies them to some of the best. 
They often are the greatest temptations that 



246 

can put a man's faith and firmness to the 
proof. Or, 

(2.) Is your condition in life mean and 
afflicted ? Do not judge the worse of your- 
self for not having those external advantages 
which others have. 

None will think the worse of you for not 
having them,, but those who think the better 
of themselves for having them : in both 
which they show a very depraved and per- 
verted judgment. These are (ra ovk e<j> ^IV) 
things entirely without us, and out of our 
power ; for which a man is neither the bet- 
ter nor the worse, but according as he uses 
them : and therefore you ought to be as in- 
different to them as they are to you. A 
good man shines amiably through all the 
obscurity of his low fortune, and a wicked 
man is a poor little wretch in the midst of 
all his grandeur. 

> Were we to follow the judgment of the 
world, we should think otherwise of these 
things, and by that mistake be led into a 
mistaken notion of ourselves. But we have 



247 

a better rule to follow, to which, if we ad- 
here, the consideration of our external con- 
dition in life, be it what it will, will have 
no undue influence on the mind in its search 
after self-knowledge. 



248 



CHAP. IX. 

The practice of self -knowledge^ great means 
to promote it. 

IX. " jLet all your self-knowledge be re- 
" duced into practice." 

The right improvement of that knowledge 
we have, is the best way to attain more. 

The great end of self-knowledge is self- 
government, without which it is but a use- 
less speculation. And, as all knowledge is 
valuable in proportion to its end, so this is 
the most excellent kind of knowledge, only 
because the practice of it is of such exten- 
sive use, as hath been already shown. 

" Above all other subjects," says an an- 
cient pious writer, " study thine own self. 
" For no knowledge, that terminates in cu- 
" riosity or speculation, is comparable to 
" that which is of use ; and of all useful 



249 

" knowledge, that is most so, which consists 
" in the due care and just notions of our- 
u selves. This study is a debt which every 
" one owes himself* Let us not, then, be so 
" lavish, so unjust, as not to pay this debt, 
" by spending some part, at least, if we can- 
" not all, or most, of our time and care 
" upon that which has the most indefeasible 
" claim to it. Govern your passions ; ma- 
" nage your actions with prudence ; and, 
" where false steps have been made, correct 
" them for the future. Let nothing be al- 
" lowed to grow headstrong and disorderly ; 
" but bring all under discipline. Set all 
" your faults before your eyes ; and pass 
u sentence upon yourself with the same se- 
" verity as you would do upon another, for 
" whom no partiality hath biassed your 
" judgment." — St. Bernard's Meditations^ 
chap. v. 

What will our most exact and diligent 
self-researches avail us, if, after all, we sink 
into indolence and sloth ? Or what will ft 
signify to be convinced, that there is a great 
deal amiss in our deportment and disposi- 



250 

tions, if we sit still contentedly under that 
conviction, without taking one step towards 
a reformation ? It will, indeed, render us 
but the more guilty in the sight of God. 
And how sad a thing will it be to have our 
self-knowledge hereafter rise up in judg- 
ment against us ! 

*? Examination is in order to correction 
" and amendment. We abuse it and our- 
" selves, if we rest in the duty without look- 
" ing farther. We are to review our daily 
"walk, that we may reform it ; and,conse- 
" quently, a daily review will point out to us 
" the subject and matter of our future daily 
" care. This day (saith the Christian, upon 
*'. his review of things at night) I lost so 

" much time, particularly at -. I took 

" too great a liberty, particularly in — . 
" I omitted such an opportunity that might 
" have been improved to better purpose. 
"I mismanaged such a duty^-I find such a 
5? corruption often working ;. my old in- 
f? firmity still cleaves to me ; how easily doth 
" this sin beset me ! Oh ! may I be more 
& attentive for the time to come ; more 



251 

" watchful over my heart; take more heed 
" to my ways ! May I do so the next day !" 
— " The knowledge of a distemper is a good 
■" step to cure ; at least, it directs to pro- 
" per methods and applications in order to 
a it. Self- acquaintance leads to self-refor- 
" mation. He that, at the close of each 
" day, calls over what is past, inspects him- 
" self, his behaviour and manners, will not 
" fall into that security, and those uncen- 
" sured follies, that are so common and so 
M dangerous." — Bennet's Christ. Orat. 

And it may not be improper, in order to 
make us sensible of, and attentive to, some 
of the more secret faults and foibles of our 
tempers, to pen them down at night, accord- 
ing as they appeared during the transactions 
o f the day ; by which means, we shall not 
only have a more distinct view of that part 
of our character to which we are generally 
most blind, but shall be able to discover 
some defects and blemishes in it, which, 
perhaps, we never apprehended before. For 
the wiles and doublings of the heart are 
sometimes so hidden and intricate, that it 



252 

requires the nicest care and most steady at- 
tention to detect and unfold them. 

For instance : " This day I read an author 
" whose sentiments were very different from 
" mine, and who expressed himself with 
" much warmth and confidence. It ex- 
" cited my spleen, I own, and I immediately 
" passed a severe censure upon him ; so that, 
" had he been present, and talked in the 
" same strain, my ruffled temper would have 
" prompted me to use harsh and ungrateful 
" language, which might have occasioned 
" a very unchristian contention. But I now 
" recollect, that, though the author might 
" be mistaken in those sentiments (as I still 
" believe he was), yet, by his particular cir- 
" cumstances in life, and the method of his 
" education, he hath been strongly led into 
" that way of thinking ; so that his preju- 
" dice is pardonable ; but my uncharitable- 
" ness is not, especially considering, that, 
ic in many respects, he has the ascendent of 
ic me. This proceeded, then, from uncha- 
■" ritableness, which is one fault of my tem- 
^ per I have to watch against ; and which I 



253 

" never was before so sensible of as I am 
11 now, upon this recollection. Learn more 
" moderation, and make more allowances 
" for the mistaken opinions of others for 
" the future. Be as charitable to others, 
" who differ from you, as you desire they 
" should be to you, who differ as much 
" from them ; for it may be, you cannot be 
" more assured of being in the right than 
" they are. 

" Again : This day I have found myself 
" strongly inclined to put in something by 
" way of abatement to an excellent charac- 
" ter given of an absent person by one of 
" his great admirers. It is true, I had the 
" command of myself to hold my tongue, 
" and it is well I had ; for the ardour of his 
" zeal would not have admitted the excep- 
" tion (though I still think that, in some 
" degree, it was just), which might have 
" raised a wrangling debate about his cha- 
" racter, perhaps at the expence of my own ; 
" or, however, occasioned much animosity 
" and contention. But I have since exa- 
" mined the secret spring of that impulse. 



264 

" and find it to be envy, which I was not 
" then sensible of; but my antagonist had 
" certainly imputed it to this : and had he 
" taken the liberty to have told me so, I 
iC much question whether I should have had 
" the temper of the philosopher, who, when 
" he was really injured, being asked whe- 
" ther he was angry or no, replied, 6 No ; 
" but I am considering with myself whether 
" I ought not to be so.' I doubt I should 
" not have had so much composure, but 
iC should have immediately resented it as 
w a false and malicious aspersion. But it was 
<; certainly envy, and nothing else ; for the 
** person, who was the object of the enco- 
" mium, w^as much my superior in many 
u respects. And the exception that arose 
** to my mind was the only flaw in his cha- 
iC racter, which nothing but a quick-sighted 
" envy could descry. Take heed, then, of 
'" that vice for the future. 

" Again, this day I was much surprised 
" to observe in myself the symptoms of a 
** vice, which, of all others, I ever thought 
" myself most clear of, and have always 



255 

" expressed the greatest detestation of in 
" others ; and that is covetousness. For 
M what else could it be that prompted me to 
" withhold my charity from my fellow-crea- 
" ture in distress, on pretence that he was 
" not, in every respect, a proper object ; or 
" to dispense it so sparingly to another, who 
" I knew was so, on pretence of having 
" lately been at a considerable expence upon 
" another occasion? This could proceed 
68 from nothing else but a latent principle 
" of covetousness ; which, though I never 
" before observed in myself, yet it is likely 
u others have. O how inscrutable are the 
K depths and deceits of the human heart ! — 
" Had my enemy brought against me a 
" charge of indolence, self-indulgence, or 
" pride, and impatience, or a too quick re- 
" sentment of affronts and injuries, my own 
" heart must have confirmed the accusation, 
" and forced me to plead guilty. Had he 
" charged me with bigotry, self-opinion, 
" censoriousness, I should have thought 
u it proceeded from the same temper in 
" himself, having rarely observed any thing 



256 

" like it in my own. But had he charged 
" me with covetousness, I should have taken 
" it for downright calumny, and despised the 
" censure with indignation and triumph. 
" And yet, after all, I find it had been but 
" too true a charge. O ! how hard a thing 
" is it to know myself! this, like all other 
" knowledge, the more I have of it, the 
" more sensible I am of my want of it." 

The difficulty of self-government and self- 
possession arises from the difficulty of a 
thorough self-acquaintance, which is neces- 
sary to it ; I say, a thorough self-acquaint- 
ance, such as has been already set forth in 
its several branches. (Part I.) For, as self- 
government is simply impossible (I mean 
considered as a virtue), where self-ignorance 
prevails, so the difficulty of it will decrease 
in proportion to the degree in which self- 
acquaintance increases. 

Many, perhaps, may be ready to think 
this is a paradox, and imagine that they 
know their predominant passions and foi- 
bles very well, but still find it extremely diffi- 
cult to correct them* But let them examine 



ioi 



this point again, and perhaps they may find, 
that that difficulty arises, either from their 
defect of self-knowledge (for it is in this, as 
in other kinds of knowledge, w r herein some 
are very ready to think themselves much 
greater proficients than they are,) or else 
from their neglect to put in practice that 
degree of self-knowledge they have. They 
know their particular failings, yet will not 
guard against the immediate temptations to 
them. And they are often betrayed into 
the immediate temptations which overcome 
them, because they are ignorant of, or do 
not guard against, the more remote tempta- 
tions, which lead them into those whieh are 
more immediate and dangerous, which may 
not improperly be called the temptations 
to temptations ; in observing and guarding 
against which consists a very necessary part 
of self-knowledge, and the great art of keep- 
ing clear of danger, which, in our present 
state of frailty, is the best means of keeping 
clear of sin. 

To correct what is amiss, and to improve 
what is good in us, is supposed to be our 
s 



258 

hearty desire, and the great end of all our 
self-research. But if we do not endeavour 
after this, all our labour after self-knowledge 
will be in vain ; nay, if we do not endeavour 
it, we cannot be said heartily to desire it : 
" For there is most of the heart, where 
u there is most of the will ; and there is 
u most of the will, where there is most en- 
" deavour ; and where there is most endea- 
" vour, there is generally most success. So 
" that endeavour must prove the truth of 
" our desire, and success will generally prove 
" the sincerity of our endeavour." — Bax- 
ter. — This, I think, w T e may safely say, 
without attributing too much to the power 
of the human will, considering that we are 
rational and free agents, and considering 
what effectual assistance is offered to them 
" who seek it, to render their endeavours sue 
cessful, if they are sincere. Which intro- 
duces the subject of the following chapter. 



259 



CHAP. X. 

Frequent and fervent prayer, the most 
effectual means for attaining true self- 
knowledge, 

Lastly : " The last means to self-know- 
" ledge which I shall mention is, frequent 
" and devout applications to the Fountain 
? of light, and the Father of our spirits, to 
" assist us in this important study, and give 
" us the true knowledge of ourselves." 

This I mention last, not as the last, but, 
on the contrary, as the greatest and best 
means of all, to attain a right and thorough 
knowledge of ourselves, and the way to ren- 
der all the rest effectual. And therefore, 
though it be the last means mentioned, it is 
the first that should be used. 

Would we know ourselves, we must often 
converse, not only with ourselves in medita- 
tion, but with God in prayer. In the low- 
s2 



260 

liest prostration of soul, beseeching the Fa- 
ther of our spirits to discover them to us ; 
" in whose light we may see light," where, 
before, there was nothing but darkness, to 
make known to us the depth and devices of 
our heart. For, without the grace and in- 
fluence of his divine illuminations and in- 
structions, our hearts will, after all our care 
and pains to know them, most certainly de- 
ceive us. And self-love will so prejudice the 
understanding, as to keep us still in self- 
ignorance. 

The first thing we are to do, in order to 
self-knowledge, is, to assure ourselves, that 
our hearts u are deceitful above all things." 
And the next is, to remember, that " the 
" Lord searcheth the hearts, and trieth the 
" reins." Jer. xviL 9. i. e. that he, the (Kapti- 
oyvwGTtis) "searcher of all hearts," (1 Chron, 
xxviii. 9.) hath a perfect knowledge of 
them, deceitful as they are. Which con- 
sideration, as it suggesteth to us the strong- 
est motive to induce us to labour after a true 
knowledge of them ourselves, so it directs 
us, at the same time, how we may attain this 



Ml 

knowledge ; viz. by a humble and importu- 
nate application to him, to whom alone they 
are known, to make them known to us. 
And this, by the free and near access which 
his holy Spirit hath to our spirits, he can 
effectually do various ways ; viz. by fixing 
our attentions; by quickening our appre- 
hensions ; removing our prejudices (which, 
like a false medium before the eye of the 
mind, prevents its seeing things in a just and 
proper light) ; by mortifying our pride ; 
strengthening the intellective and reflecting 
faculties ; and enforcing upon the mind a 
lively sense and knowledge of its greatest 
happiness and duty ; and so awakening the 
soul from that carnal security and indiffer- 
ence about its best interests, which a too 
serious attention to the world is apt to betray 
it into. 

Besides, prayer is a very proper expedient 
for attaining self-knowledge, as the actual 
engagement of the mind in this devotional 
exercise is, in itself, a great help to it. For 
the mind is never in a better frame, than 
when it is intently and devoutly engaged 



262 

in this duty. It has then the best appre- 
hensions of God, the truest notions of itself, 
and tile justest sentiments of earthly things ; 
the clearest conceptions of its own weakness, 
and the deepest sense of its own vileness ; 
and consequently is in the best disposition 
that can be, to receive a true and right know- 
ledge of itself. 

And, Oh ! could we but always think of 
ourselves in such a manner, or could we but 
always be in a disposition to think of our- 
selves in such a manner, as we sometimes do 
in the fervour of our humiliations before 
the throne of grace, how great a progress 
should we soon make in this important 
science? Which evidently shows the ne- 
cessity of such devout and humble engage- 
ments of the soul, and how happy a means 
they are to attain a just self-acquaintance. 

And now, reader, whoever thou art that 
hast taken the pains to peruse these sheets, 
whatever be thy circumstances or condition 
in the world, whatever thy capacity or un- 
derstanding, whatever thy occupations and 



263 

engagements, whatever thy favourite sen- 
timents and principles, or whatever religious 
sect or party thou espousest, know for cer- 
tain, that thou hast been deeply interested 
in what thou hast been reading ; whether 
thou hast attended to it or no. For it is of 
no less concern to thee than the security of 
thy peace and usefulness in this world, and 
thy happiness in another ; and relates to all 
thy interests, both as a man and a Christian. 
Perhaps thou hast seen something of thine 
own image in the glass that has now been 
held up to thee ; and wilt thou go away, and 
soon " forget what manner of person thou 
u art?" Perhaps thou hast met with some 
things thou dost not well understand or ap- 
prove ; but shall that take off thine attention 
from those things thou dost understand and 
approve, and art convinced of the necessity 
of? If thou hast received no improvement, 
ncfbenefit from what thou hast been reading, 
read it over again. The same thought, you 
know, often impresses one more at one time 
than another, And we sometimes receive 



264 

more knowledge and profit by the second 
perusal of a book than by the first. And I 
would fain hope, that thou wilt find some- 
thing in this that may set thy thoughts on 
work, and which, by the blessing of God, 
may make thee more observant of thy heart 
and conduct ; and, in consequence of that, 
a more solid, serious, wise, established 
.Christian. 

But will you, after all, deal by this book 
you have now read, as you have dealt by 
many sermons you have heard ? pass your 
judgment upon it according to your received 
and established set of notions ; and condemn 
or applaud it only as it is agreeable or dis- 
agreeable to them ; and commend or cen- 
sure it, only as it suits or does not suit your 
particular taste ; without attending to the 
real weight, importance, and necessity of 
the subject, abstracted from those views? 
Or, will you be barely content with the en- 
tertainment and satisfaction, which some 
parts of it may possibly have given you ; 
to assent to the importance of the subject, 



265 

and justness of the sentiment, or the pro- 
priety of some of the observations you have 
been reading, and so dismiss all without any 
further concern about the matter ? Believe 
it, O Christian reader, if this be all the ad- 
vantage you gain by it, it were scarce worth 
while to have confined yourself so long to 
the perusal of it. It has aimed, it has sin- 
cerely aimed, to do you a much greater be- 
nefit ; to bring you to a better acquaintance 
with one you express a particular regard 
for, and who is capable of being the best 
friend, or the worst enemy, you have in the 
world ; and that is yourself. It was de- 
signed to convince you, that, would you 
live and act consistently, either as a man 
or a Christian, you must know yourself; and 
to persuade you, under the influence of the 
foregoing motives, and by the help of the 
forementioned directions, to make self- 
knowledge the great study, and self-govern- 
ment the great business, of your life. In 
which resolution may Almighty God con- 
firm you ; and in which great business may 



266 

his grace assist you, against all future dis- 
couragements and distractions! With him 
I leave the success of the whole ; to whom 
be glory and praise for ever ! 



THE END, 



W, Shackell, Printer, 11, Johnson's-court, Fleet-street, London, 

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